Legacy
by stacylk
Summary: AU.In a time where the children of Panem are housed in concentration camps to be used as slaves, one young man,the son of a resistance leader and the only survivor to escape will discover his destiny,as well as find love in an unexpected place.P/K OC/OC
1. Chapter 1

Rated Adult for Language, Violence, Character Death, Physical/Emotional Abuse, Forced Sexual Slavery, References to Prostitution, Slavery and Sexual Situations. **Be a Responsible Reader.**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Reviews are appreciated and loved.

**Legacy**

**001.**

The stale air stood stagnic, filling his lungs with a burning sensation. As the wind stung the olive skin of his sharp features, both bruising and drying out the skin on his cheeks. His legs felt heavy as lead, as he was pushed to move forward by the burly guard behind him. Every step up the brick stairs felt like a death march. Unsure of what was waiting behind the fence and steel bars, made his stomach twist, with anxiety and curiosity.

It was true that he was used to the unknown, never being able to stay in one place for too long was a constant for him, but this was different, there was a feeling of finality to this, and that alone made him want to fight back. He turned his head to each side, surveying the area around him, how he was taught, and the bangs of his dark hair spreading the rain that had collected there, as they whipped against the edges of his eyes.

From what he could collect there was nothing but barren land, which didn't supply any kind of cover, and a fog of grey sky that would make it impossible to see through.

It was time that he came to the conclusion that for all intent and purposes he was beyond a doubt, screwed. The thought of never seeing his mother again made his breath catch in the chilling air, all because of a careless mistake and dreams that felt like memories. The trek up the steps was beginning to become difficult with his shaky balance and the gash on his temple that began to seep thought the makeshift bandage.

It was true that he was worse for wear than before, but he still was able to deal out his own violence, before he had been knocked unconscious. His broad shoulders were jolted forward by the barrel of the gun, which was lying against his shoulder blade. The boy slowly swung his head around coming into full eye contact with the heavy set man behind him.

His eye had completely closed by now, and it was a certainty that he would be nursing his busted lip later on, when he had the privacy to do so, not wanting anyone to see the effect that a teenage boy had on his crumbling sense of manhood. The young man was sure that there had only been few that were able to take the man off balance, and make him look foolish which was yet another strike that the boy would have against him.

"You don't have to be rough. All you have to do is ask, but I have to warn you. You're not really my type."

The round face man cracked a crooked smile, his green eyes flickering with something unseemly ,"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. You'll soon find out what they like to do to smart mouths like yours."

The boy took in a breath of heavy air, "You don't take rejection well."

The uniformed man expanded his grimace, revealing his yellowed teeth behind his thin lips, while bringing the side of the fire arm against the dark haired boys face. Causing him to face forward again, a whisper of a groan escaping his mouth. He knew it was against his better judgment to antagonize this beast of a man at all, but the fear and panic that was bubbling up through his body was beginning to form into utter defiance.

He averted his eyes down to his mud covered boots; the rain water had mingled with the dirt that had caught there, making it harder for him to walk, weighing his legs down. He was sure if it wasn't the concussion to slow him down, the paste formed on his shoes, threatening to worm up his legs, would.

And the last thing he needed was another beating, although he was sure the way he had been smarting off to any one of authority would easily receive him another black eye. The scratching of the wind off of the barbed wire fencing sent cold chills through his body, meeting the rain that had settled at the small of his back. His broad shoulders slump, as the man behind him kicks into the back of one of knees, sending him face first into the fence. His blistered fingers from the icy rain wraps in the chain link fencing, as he tries to gain any kind of balance, hunching his sturdy frame even more so.

A shout from above him draws his attention, directing his bruised face upward, "That's enough Cray. We won't have any use for him, if he's beaten to death."

The guard named Cray creases his brows together, "Master Heavensbee, it's just this one gets a little out of line. We had to knock him to the ground to even get a grip on him. Most of the codes don't even fight back."

The boy's soaked dark hair has fallen into his line of sight, becoming a curtain of tangled strains. He watches the voice from before become caporal, as the view of a lean man dressed in purple fabric walks down the spiraling grey stones. The velvet fabric sets off against the murky sky, causing the young man's eyes the need to adjust. The man walks to the fence, which is still closed to stand directly in front of the boy, surveying the damage. He clenches his thin cheeks, darting his attention to both Cray and the broad shoulder boy leaning for dear life, as the rain starts to pound down onto his already soaked clothing.

"We should all be thankful he wasn't an impressionable female in desperate need of something. Aren't we Guard Cray?"

Cray swallows hard, trying to tame his vicious tongue as he responds through clenched teeth, "Yes, sir. "

The thin man leans closer to the staggering young male, whose only sound is his heavy breathing from the long trek up the stones. He slowly moves his eyes to the set that is now studying him. He notices the find coifed black hair that resonates a purple sheen, close to his elaborate suit. His eyes are inset enough to reveal light green with flecks of gold. It's unnerving for the boy how the sleek man is studying him. With nimble fingers, Master Heavensbee, reaches through the small openings of the link fence to turn over the boy's face to each side.

"What did his laser contain?"

"We weren't able to contain that information, sir?"

"Why, not? I thought you were well enough aware of how to operate the scanners."

Cray clears his throat, "It's not that, sir."

Heavensbee rolls his eyes at his subordinates ignorance, "What then?"

For the first time, Cray seems nervous, shifting slightly, the hold on his firearm faltering enough that it rubs the boys shoulder.

"He's not lazered , Master Heavensbee."

The tall man's face springs up, his eyes astronomically wider than from before, "What?"

Cray chokes on a thick layer of saliva, "He's not lasered."

Heavensbee gives a wave of hand, signaling for the opening of the gate to an unseen individual. The gate creaks open slowly, obviously too slow for Heavensbee, as he squeezes through the tiny opening that has presented. The young man nearly lands face first into the soiled, murky earth, his balance easily faltering without the previous support.

His arm is twisted upward and his sleeve pushed up, by Heavensbee, his nails dragging against the boys olive skin, to reveal the naked skin on the inside of his forearm. The boy can hear the intake of breath from the older man, even through the sheets of rain that slide down the sides of his face.

Heavensbee steps closer to the boy, the proximity making him uncomfortable, with a swift hand the man reaches for the boys face, his manicured fingers digging into the sides of his face, jerking the dark haired boys face up to meet his. The boy is met by the green eyes of the man observing him, his own bright blue, never faltering.

Heavensbee's face becomes hard and stoic for a minute before a sense of terror resides there, if only for a few seconds. Ever the gentleman, and Master, he squares his shoulders and signals for an unseen guard to lead the boy into the compound. The sturdy man dressed in the same muted color as Cray rounds the corner, his red hair burning the rain. The downcast seems to have no effect on him as he takes the unmarked arm of the boy, being sure to steer him away from Heavensbee, not to disturb the footing that he now had.

Master Heavensbee swooshed his hand in the air, signaling the gate's closure, leaving Cray on the other side. The boy allowed himself to be lead by the guard, his presence not as dominate as Cray, and grateful to be free of the gun. With still slumped shoulders, he dares a look back at the burly man, while still being dragged; a small smirk shows on his face through his hair that has now been curled at the ends by the rain. The fence now separates him from Cray, but he soon thinks that provoking the twisted man with a gun, may not be in his best interest.

The sense of relief from being free of Cray, is soon gone when he takes in his surroundings of solid towering stone buildings. Their very presence seems to squash any kind of joy out of the environment. He notices that each building has a guard positioned at the rooftop, their fire arms stiffly pressed into the chests of their pristine uniforms. The boy notices that the downfall of rain has no effect on their stances, or their ability to survey the area.

The feeling of helplessness creeps even more so into his body, as looks forward at the back of Heavensbee. When they come to the entrance of a building which has the roof of sheet metal, the boy steps onto the landing, grateful to be free of the chilling rain. The rhythmic sound of the water hitting the metal, almost lulls him into a state of calm, his tired body starting to lessen the adrenaline that had been present.

Heavensbee, turns to the boy his hand extending out to reveal a thin piece of plastic, which he swipes. The square of lights and dials lets out a beeping sound that echoes through the landing. The signal makes the young boy jump, as the wall separates itself to reveal a door. The suited man nods to the slender guard to hand over the boy, as Heavensbee's nimble fingers are replace those of the guard. The boy doesn't attempt to look back as the doors slide back together, once again forming an impenetrable wall.

The lean man's grip lessens a bit on the boy's arm, as they walk through the bright corridor. His eyes need time to adjust to his new surroundings, which are in complete contrast to the dank muted world outside the walls. Heavnesbee clears his throat which earns a sideway glance from the soaked boy.

"Forgive my horrid manners. I am Master Plutarch Heavensbee, the moderator of this facility, when Elective Snow, isn't called to do so. Think of me as a counselor of sorts, a confidant."

This earns a confused look to cross the boy's face; his brows knitted together, "I'm not sure how much guidance I need if I'm dead by morning."

Heavensbee lets out a spurt of air that was intended to be a laugh, "My poor child, you're not here to die. You're here to be a contributing member of society."

Plutarch's answer doesn't seem to help the boy's confusion, as he once again sweeps the thin plastic over a box of lights. The sleek wall in front of them opens up revealing an even brighter room full of machines, with both male and females dressed in all white, making it difficult to differentiate the sexes without further observation. Plutarch's grip once again tightens as he walks the boy into the sterile room, the door closing behind them, as if on cue. A few of the workers turn in their direction, but it's soon until most of them go back to their former duties.

The boy is taken from Plutarch's grasp and ushered into a steel chair, a wake of muddy puddles forming behind him marring the once pristine floor. His head is pushed back into a headrest, causing him to jerk from the action. His defense skills are threatening to come out, but he decides against it, knowing that there was a less likability of escaping if he were trapped inside this building. The boy's arms are twisted upward, by the man in all white, who the boy suspects is male by his frame, to finally be clenched by metal cuffs that threaten to bruise his already battered body.

Soon his head is pressed into the headrest, as it too has cuffs that pinch the skin at the boys' forehead. He's unable to move, his heartbeat drumming, feeling the pulse point at his neck threatening to burst. The man threatens to blend into the room, as he runs his gloved fingers over the boys arm, puzzled by how bare it is.

He turns to Plutarch, his voice strained," How is this even possible? Most codes are filed and placed by their second day of life."

"We simply want to find out his DNA sheet."

The lab worker shrugs, reaching over for a dial pad, which is connected to a set of needles. Placing a steady finger to push them towards the boy, he addresses him for the first time.

"Be prepared for much pain. Seeing that your kind is DNA processed after you vacate the uterus, we're not sure if the crying is from pain or you're inferior breeding."

Without further warning the man jabs the needle into the pulse point, at the base of the boys jaw. Earning a low groan, and the boys jaw to set, making it impossible for him to block out the pain. The machine sped up its beeps and buzzing, as the level of pain increased. It was difficult for the boy's body to cease shaking; it was although he had lost all control. A low groan escaped his tight drawn lips, earning a look from the attendants.

The boy could see Plutarch's face, from the corner of his eye, and to the boy's amazement the man looked rather troubled. The lab worker typed in numbers, gently humming to himself, as he would doing something trivial and beneath him. When the buzzing stopped and the pain started to ebb, the man in white turned toward the screen that was turned away from the boy.

"Let's see here-", the man's eyes went wide, with a swift almost frantic motion he dung his nails into the sides of the boys face. He forces the boys profile side to side against the pressure of the cuffs. The needle still lodged in the boys' skin twists, causing the pain to escalate. The troubled man forces the boys face forward looking into his eyes. The same look of horror that Plutarch had from before is visible in the man's face. The creases around his eyes deepen, causing his eyes to become more apparent. He finally lets go of the boys face, turning to Heavensbee.

"Master Heavensbee, you must see this now."

Heavensbee makes his way over to the man in the white protective suit, his own purple one sending streaks of color through the air. Master Heavensbee finally makes his way to the slightly younger man, as he moves the screen up towards them further. They both stare at the boy with looks of confusion, soon turning their backs to the boy, deep in conversation. The young man isn't able to observe their faces but he can hear the strain in their voices, which is heavy in the large lab. However with their voices so low and only the visibility of their backs, he can hear parts of their conversation.

"He's his son."

"What are we supposed do?"

"Snow will have our heads if we don't come to him with this revelation."

"He may still collect them even if we do."

The man in the white turns rapidly towards the young boy, his voice tight, "Snow has just been given a gift of great advantage."

Plutarch turns more slowly, inching his body around, his voice careful, "Indeed he has."

The man pushes a button which releases the boy from his shackles, his body still tense from the pain. With little to no finesse the man yanks out the needle from the boy's neck, earning a groan of disgust. Plutarch goes to the screen, pushing buttons mindlessly, when finally a thin layer of plastic emerges. The clear piece of plastic has moving images on it, which fly across it with purpose.

The boy is violently pulled from the metal chair by the man in white, while Plutarch sweeps his thin piece of plastic from before, across another box of beeping lights. Another door appears from the opposite side from where they originally came, revealing yet another guard brandishing a weapon. The crude man in white pushes the injured boy to the guard, wiping his hands of any responsibility. Plutarch looks at him with a puzzled look, as he motions the man forward.

"Aren't you coming Letus?"

The man known as Letus plants his feet, "I certainly am _not_".

Plutarch sighs, "Why is that?"

"I refuse to be punished because some unwashed bastard had the misfortune to be born to an inferior inciter."

Plutarch straightens his shoulders, his voice exasperated," So be it."

The boy locks eyes with Letus, squaring his shoulders to show his full height, the first time he had been so bold to show defiance, since his standoff with Cray. He knew they would see him as less than a person, but he wouldn't make it easier for them to belittle him. Plutarch walks through the opening, signaling for the door to close and the lab along with Letus to become a memory. Letus seems unnerved, as the doors close, the boy never losing eye contact. When the wall is solid again, Plutarch speaks.

"Try not to let Letus' words rile you up. It isn't of any fault of yours, to who you were born to."

The boy sneaks a look back to Plutarch, "Isn't it though? If not then why am I here to begin with?"

Plutarch averts his eyes, as the guard pushes the boy forward with the butt of his fire arm. The hallway is long and winding, the walls not the same sterile white as the lab or entry way, but lavished in deep purple that seems to flow even with little to no air flow. Plutarch blends into the walls, his suit making him appear to be an illusion. The boy's damp clothes have now dried from the rain to now only be replaced by the sweat that is forming under his arms and the beads of sweat that lace into his long lashes.

The guard ushering the boy stops short at a door, that the boy can only assume is made up of a sturdy lumber such as oak. It reaches up towards the ceiling of the tall corridor, threatening to rise up through the roof. Plutarch gently moves the boy to the side, moving to the door with trepidation, allowing his white knuckles to knock loudly. With this motion the guard takes his place against the purple soaked walls, his fire arm held tightly to his chest. A booming voice comes from under the threshold, giving Plutarch admittance.

Plutarch motions for the boy to follow, allowing him to walk on his own accord. He stays behind the slender man, as the doors are opened with flourish and a creaking sound echoes through their bodies. The boy is hit with the sickly sweet stench of flowers, his olive skin becoming irritated by the thickness of the aroma. He wills himself not to throw up as he looks to the man sitting at a large desk, his face almost not seen by vases upon vases of white roses. Plutarch rushes to him with little grace, almost tripping over his own feet in the process. He hands the older man the plastic sheet that he had retrieved from the lab, his fingers shaking slightly.

He leans his head down to speak into the ear of the white haired man, his sunken face blending into the budded flowers. The dark haired boy's blue eyes shine, with the backdrop of bright flowers and deep colored walls. He shifts from foot to foot, becoming uneasy under the seated man's stare. The white haired man breaks his glare, as he studies the plastic report, which has now been placed in his hands. He rapidly looks to the boy and back to the clear plastic, trying to size either up. The older man turns his head to Plutarch, only showing his profile, as Plutarch nods in agreement.

Quickly, standing up right he takes his leave haphazardly, rounding the desk, and briefly making eye contact with the boy. The gust of wind, he wasn't aware was present makes the skin on his arm become cold. When the doors are closed behind Plutarch, the boy is aware of the drop of temperature, as he is left alone with the man behind the desk. The white haired man reclines back into his chair looking the boy up and down.

"I suppose that you may be wondering who I am?"

The boy tries to swallow the lump forming at the base of his throat, "I know who you are. A man of your stature isn't easily unnoticed, Elective Snow."

A small smirk mares Snow's face, "Neither is a young man of your genealogical background."

"I'm sure I'm not aware of what you mean."

Snow scoots his chair away from the desk, standing up from it making his way to the front. His hand slides through the petals, causing them to flow like falling clouds. The boy becomes uneasy with the proximity, contemplating to back up against the door, although he ultimately decides against it, resuming his footing.

"Why don't we make a promise not to lie to each other?"

"Very well. What do you want me to be honest about?"

Snow folds his arms, "Let's start with the interesting revelation that is your DNA sheet-", and Snow stops to reach for the thin piece of plastic behind him, "What is it that they call you?"

"You may want to be more specific."

The boy was aware that being so brazen with the man was severely unwise, but the defiant streak from before was bubbling up once again, giving him far more bravado than was healthy.

"The name boy that your inferior parents gave you after your birth."

The boy squares his broad shoulders, "Brenton Everdeen."

* * *

**A/N: I have finished this story. I will be adding the additional chapters shortly. I listed this story as PK, because their story is extremely important to the plot and the essence of the fic, I'm just mentioning this is anyone is wondering about their absence. As always, Reviews Are Love!**

-Stace


	2. Chapter 2

**002A.**

Snow's pale face mirrors that of his hair, assimilating into the flowers that are displayed throughout the room. Brenton tries to swallow under the deep stare of the older man. The aroma beginning to insight a gag reaction, as it coats his already horse throat.

The older man leans into the desk, once again appraising the image of the worn boy in front of him. He folds his arms over his tailored suit, slightly wrinkling the fabric lying over his chest.

"Are you quite accurate about that?"

"I'm not sure that I understand."

Snow shakes his head, his slicked hair starting to fly freely, "Your kind never stops to amaze me. Even when you're presented with a fact you still deny the factual possibility."

"Well then we seem to be at an impasse."

This invokes a sense of rage in Snow, as he pushes himself off of the sturdy desk, causing trinkets to fall onto their sides. The action unnerves Brenton enough that he leans back slightly as the older man closes the proximity.

Cold grey eyes are met with bright blue ones, as the two men stare each other down.

Snow's breath is dank and sickening as he speaks low, the tone not diminishing his anger, "Any fool can look into your face, and be aware of your lineage. I _would _notice the eyes of Peeta Mellark, anywhere."

Brenton holds his ground, "I wasn't aware you two were so acquainted."

"We've been trying to kill each other for a very long time."

"How unfortunate if one of you succeeds. Then you'd have to find something else to occupy your time."

A smile mares Snow's face, "It seems that his eyes are not the only thing you acquired from him. _How unfortunate for you?_"

Snow steps back, giving the boy a bit more room to breathe, the stench of copper mixing with the sweet perfume of roses in his nostrils, "Well isn't it fitting that you kill his child."

A croak of a laugh rumbles up through the older man's body, "My boy, you're not here to die."

"Then why exactly am I here?"

"To the show the world who you are."

Deep concern moves over the boys face, as Snow rounds his desk pressing under the lip of the desk. The creaking of the doors startles Brenton, as two guards walk into the room hooking onto each one of his arms. Snow resumes his seat from before, not bothering to look up from his desk.

"Put the inferior in population; make sure he's encoded and dressed appropriately"

The blond guard at Brenton's right side nods sharply, "Yes, Elective Snow."

The boy is jerked around, facing the hallway that lies beyond the office. The guards pull him forward, his weak body from the travel, dragging. He sneaks a look back at Snow who is now peering at his fleeting back.

"I'll be seeing you, sir."

Snows face hardens, surprised by the boys bravado. As soon as the doors are closed, erasing all signs of the young boy, Snow quickly types into the row of dials and buttons that are positioned to the left of him.

When he is finally met with a voice from the other end, that emits a greeting, Snow swallows the slight anxiety he was experiencing.

"Fetch me Serkan, be sure to inform him how imperative it is he arrive at my office, immediately."

When the other end goes silent, Snow presses the dial to signal finality of the call. The presence of this one boy could be the one advantage that Snow had been waiting for. The war could finally be over, and he would have the one thing to finally destroy the rebel leader, Peeta Mellark. His son.

* * *

_**BRENTON**_

My arms tense, as I'm led through the corridor by the silent guards, occasionally I'm rewarded with a monotone grunt, to instruct me where to turn. My legs are heavy under the exhaustion, and mud that has now formed its own caste incasing my calves. I have to occasionally blow my bangs out of my eye line, as I'm being dragged half hunched over.

The anxieties that I'm feeling about what lies ahead for me is slightly won over, by the guilt that I'm feeling about abandoning my mother. No doubt she's realized of my absence, frantic over what may have happened to me. She's left all alone now, and I realize in this moment , I am my father's son. I leave the people who love me, and the thought of being like Peeta Mellark is more haunting to me than any kind of torture I am in store for.

The walls blend into the sterile white, the deep tones disappearing to sleek flat ones. The clicking of the guard's boots, resonant with every step, as the carpet from before is replaced by linoleum to match the colorless walls. I'm starting to contemplate the idea of fighting them off, even taking in mind of how exhausted I am.

It's not lost on me, that whatever is at the end of this hallway doesn't bode well for me. It's shorter distance than I would have assumed, when we reach a dead end. I stay there silently with the two men, whose grips haven't lessened at all.

I tilt my head to the side; my eyes go upward landing on a camera perched in the corner. I resist the urge to smirk at my audience, or even to simply rise up my hand to give a finger gesture, if only my arms weren't pinned to my sides.

Without warning the wall opens into an entrance, much like from before. I dare to look into the room, as I still stand at the threshold. The room is abandoned, its solid white walls glowing because of the stillness. I notice that a single metal chair is located in the center of the room, accompanied by a small computer console, and an array of needles.

My heart drops, hitching my already shallow breath inside my raw throat. It's almost identical to the last chair I had been trapped in. The puncture at my throat is still sore, blending in with the rest of my aches. I'm ushered into the room, my feet dragging behind me.

The toes of my lived in boots scrap the clean floor, producing a sharp sound. I'm deposited into the chair, the familiar cold steel harsh against my back. The temperature sends a chill through my thin shirt, which is clinging to my back and torso.

My arms are once again twisted up, the inside skin of the limb revealed. The metal cuffs lock into place, trapping half of my body, while my head was still free to move.

Taking this present advantage, I look to either side, trying to find someone else in the room either than myself and the guards who are now stationed at the opening. What seems to come out of nowhere, a small figure dressed in white emerges into the room, advancing to where I am.

I assume, it's a woman by how the covering falls off her, and swooshes behind her as she walks. Like before I'm not met with any kind of greeting, before a hand pushes my head back into the head rest, securing my skull back with a familiar cuff.

She positions her body towards the screen, mindlessly typing into the machine. When she's through she reaches up to a small device, which is emitting a bright blue glow.

She moves the contraption closer to my arm; I wince from the heat that is easily felt from only a few feet. The glow intensifies, as it comes closer to my left arm, the heat of it threatens to blister my olive skin. When she positions it inches from my forearm, it's slowly inched upward toward my hand.

It's difficult for me not to wail at the discomfort, as it easily out weighs anything I've felt in the last few days, which is saying a lot. I'm angry with myself when a guttural scream escapes my mouth, vibrating off the naked walls.

The smell of burnt flesh is enough to make me loose the meager amount of food that is still in my stomach. I hold back the tears that are threatening to well up in my eyes, as everything is in pain from my eyes down to my now burning skin.

My eyes strain to see what is the cause of my pain, when the little breath I had escapes my lungs. I've been marked.

The swelling almost over whelms the lines, now etched into my skin. Sequences of numbers are positioned, below the array of markings. A memory from when I was little comes to mind, when I first noticed the mark on my mother's arm, asking her curiously what it was.

She looked down at me with solemn eyes, taking me into her lap. With a loving hand she leaned my head down onto her chest, rocking me slowly.

"_There are those in this world that try to define who we are as people. Never forget Brenton, you are who you aspire to be. Not the bines that others try to lock us into."_

As a six year old, I had absolutely no grasp on what she was trying to tell me. However, now in this moment, it's all starting to come into view. My arm still throbs, as I'm released from the chair. I keep my seat; slowly I reach over to my blistered arm, cautiously running my fingers over the tattoo.

I can feel the grooves of the lines rising up from my skin. Without warning the metal chair is leaned back, the sound of a motor screeching in my ears. My arms are still restrained, when the cuff located on my forehead, unlocks with a click.

My anxiety shifts from the pain resonating from my arm, to the question of why I'm exactly in this position. I feel rough fingers clawing back the bangs hanging in my eyes. That's when the buzzing starts to register and I'm met with a tickling sensation.

It takes me a few seconds to be fully aware of the hair that begins to fall away from my face, falling to the tile floor. My head jerks back periodically, the clippers becoming entangled in my thick dark hair.

The texture of the blades slightly scraps my scalp, as I becoming acutely aware of the temperature. It's only a few minutes until, all of my hair, my mother's, is lying in scattered piles around the heavy chair. Before, I'm able to fully register the moment I am pulled from the chair, the cuffs clicking off, pinching my skin once again.

I don't have much time to feel my now bare scalp, until I'm pushed through the opening. I'm led to the wall directly across from us, the wall opening. I assume it will be similar to the other ones I've been in. I'm immediately corrected, when I'm met with a dark dank room, whose only light source is a flickering light.

The two guards push me through the door, I land on my knees. The ground is freezing, littered with small sharp stones that dig into the heels of my palms. I breathe in the cold air, my lungs burning. A set of strong arms pull me up into a standing position.

I'm positive that this is how I'm going to die, waiting for my neck to be slit or broken. I silently hope that my mother will be able to recover my body, I know how she is about burials being sacred. However, instead of being assaulted by a blade, my stiff clothing, from the rain and sweat, is being forcefully pulled from my body.

My shirt is ripped from body, landing on the floor in two pieces. My chest is now bare, already irritated from the intense cold. Suddenly, I'm thrown to the floor, falling to my back with a hard thud, the tiny rocks digging into my skin.

My boots are being thrown off, both hitting the adjacent wall, causing plaster to flack off. Finally my training kicks into gear as I kick off the guards located at my feet, both landing on the ground. I proceed to stand up, when I'm forcefully hit in the ribs with a butt of a rifle.

I fall back with pain; my head is secured by another guard, my shoulders also, as I'm powerless to what is happening to me. I'm still nursing the pain in my ribs, when I feel my pants being tugged off, my underwear joining them in a pile by my discarded shirt.

I'm yanked up by my throat, standing on wobbly legs. When the pains in my body start to ebb, I become aware of the chilling air, as it whistles around my now entirely naked body. I'm almost afraid to look around at the guards that now surround me, fearing anymore punishment, with my body being so raw.

Before, I can take another breath of air, a flood of cold water with intense pressure hits my body. I start to crouch, trying to protect my face from the high power washer that is causing shallow cuts on my naked form. As I bend, the barrel of a rifle is put to me temple.

I'm ordered to stand up, by a burly man with a slight stutter. I do as told, the water assaulting me from head to toe. After a few minutes, that feel like an eternity, the assault ceases. The water dripping from my face, ears, and chest settles at my feet. The cold air mixes with the water, blistering my skin.

The sensation is more than I can bear, before I'm tossed a set of clothing, and forced to dress with once again a barrel to my temple. I clutch the shirt to my chest, its itchy material irritating my chest as the pants and thin boxers almost fall to the puddle at my feet. I hastily pull on the articles of clothing, pleased to not be naked in the freezing room any longer.

The shirt and pants rub against my skin, stiffly. I try to adjust my lower body against the thin boxers, feeling less comfortable than I did before. Pair of light boots are tossed at my head; I catch them with more finesse than I did with the other articles of clothing.

I throw on the boots, lacing them up tightly, trying not to slip in the water, that has started to seep into the hem of my slightly too long pants.

When I'm done with my shoes, I'm ushered to move forward by yet another gun. I come to the conclusion that all this passive aggressive gun authority is really starting to piss me off. I try not to slip in the puddles of water, the ground slick and unlevel.

My still wet body is starting to cling to the stiff fabric, as I walk out into the cold. I look up into the dark grey sky, thankful that the rain has finally stopped. I survey my surroundings, noticing they're not much better than they were outside the fence.

The ground is unlevel, sloping drastically. The ground is almost barren of any kind of plant life, mud as far as I can see. I finally come to the conclusion; this may very well be my own private hell.

* * *

002B.

Brenton takes in the desolate place around him, the earthy tones blending into the harsh grays of the buildings towering over everything in sight. He notices there's an array of kids from different ages to ethnicity. He's positive most of them can't be older than thirteen, as they keep their heads down and try to keep close to their chosen crowds.

The feeling is somber, a chill rushing up his spine. He wonders if it's from the cold, are the sense of despair in the air. He turns to look back at the guards who had ever so helpfully assisted him in getting dressed. One tosses him a knit cap, he had been clutching. The thin winter cap blows in the wind slightly almost missing Brenton's hands, close to landing in the mud.

The second doesn't even acknowledge the boys presence any longer, as he takes his post at the rear of the yard. The first orders Brenton to go eat before, there's nothing left. Proudly commenting on his state of physical appearance, adamant it would be impossible for the boy to look worse.

His wounds from the previous day, are still healing, and bruises have started to form on both of his cheeks. Brenton was almost certain that he was also sporting a broken if not bruised rib from his encounter a few minutes ago.

The boy nodded a sarcastic thanks to the guard, placing the thread bare cap on his now shaved head.

He tried to ignore the stares, he was earning from the other children. Some would give him a slight glance, going back to their previous conversations or routines. Others were trying to size him up, Brenton noticed this action from when he would go hunting.

You first size up your prey before you attack, formulating a plan and then attacking. His body tensed, hands clenching ready for anything that would come his way. He proceeded up a steep hill, the rain had mixed with the dirt there making it a slope of mud.

Brenton dug his heels in trying to not fall flat on his face. All he needed was to look like an incompetent fool in front of the guards or even more so the others in the yard. He noticed there was a long line up against the furthest wall, leading up to a serving station.

One by one each child would walk down the muddy slope down to an area of metal tables, with their steel trays. The smell of the food traveled in the air, assaulting Brenton's sense of smell. It was reminiscent of the animal droppings he knew to be in the woods.

It was apparent by the food why most of the children in the yard looked beyond malnourished. However, he noticed at the foot of the line, there was a bundle of bright red apples. Most were falling off, rolling away, making the cook having to bend down with a groan to fetch them.

A small red headed little girl who couldn't be more than twelve licked her lips, and watched the fruit with hungry eyes. Brenton walked over to the side where he couldn't be seen by much of anyone but the little girl.

Bending down he picked up a medium sized rock, waited till the cook turned his back to go to the back, and pitched it to the basket of apples. Ever the sharpshooter, he nailed the top apple causing it to wobble as one rolled off the brim of the basket, rolling on a slope over to Brenton.

He smiled faintly to himself, picking it up he wiped it on his clothing, holding it tightly in his hand. The little girl stared at him with wide eyes, her bright hair darting to each side, looking if anyone had noticed.

Luckily the meal line had thinned by then, and most of the children were hunched over their thin soup and rotten fruit. While the guards were lost in their own conversations. Brenton walked over to the little girl who had now joined him at the side of the building. He kneeled down to her height, the mud seeping into his pants.

He held the bright apple to her, "Here little one. Take it. Just don't get too attached."

Her fingers shook, as she reached for it, pulling back as fast, "No."

"It's ok, just take it."

The little girl snatched it from his hand; afraid he would change his mind and ran the other direction away from any prying eyes. Brenton watched as she rounded the corner, until he couldn't see her long hair anymore.

He sighed standing up; in vain he tried not to fall into the mud anymore, as he made his way over to where the meal line was. He took his place behind a thinning blonde boy about his age, from the looks of him may have been husky at one time.

Brenton was sure the extreme temperature and the awful food were to blame. The line moved briskly, everyone already in tune to how the process worked. Brenton reached for his own tray, the slimy soup sloshing from side to side, drops landing in the small helping of nearly rotten fruit.

He looked up at the server with raised eyebrows, the man kept his attention on the vats of steaming broth. Brenton sighed, making his way back down the slippery slope, mudslinging around his ankles, in tune with the broth that did the same.

He finally reached the end of the hill, taking his seat at an empty table. The yard had been more or less deserted, and he was fine with having at least a small amount of time for himself.

Brenton worked his spoon through the soup, the stench turning his stomach. He pushed it over to the side, leaning his head down into his hands. He idly scratched his head under the winter hat, the lack of hair feeling foreign to him.

He tried to piece the last few days together, the whole thing seemed to just mesh into one whole beating. He shouldn't have left his mother, so that he could make sense of old dreams that haunted him.

She always warned him about his curiosity, that it could have the capacity of getting him killed one day. It seems that she was once again right.

"You keep pulling that charity shit and you'll get all of us killed."

Brenton looked up from his hands, looking into the face of a strong jawed boy, his light hair sticking out at each end. His back was hunched over the table, keeping close proximity to Brenton.

"Excuse me?"

The boy hitches his thumb, motioning behind him, "The apple thing."

Brenton straightened his back, "I didn't think anyone noticed."

"They didn't."

Brenton kept his bright eyes locked with the boy's dark ones, "You did."

"I'm different."

Brenton nodded, trying to ignore the boy who had interrupted his time of self hatred. Brenton stood up making his way to the other side of the yard, pushing his hands into the pocket at the end of his shirt. The boy follows suit, keeping pace with the slightly shorter boy.

"All I'm saying is you being like a person will get the rest of us shot."

"Is that so bad?"

The boy raised an eyebrow, "Being shot? I haven't taken a survey, but I'm sure it doesn't feel good."

Brenton rolled his eyes, "No, being human."

"Here? Yes."

Brenton slowed his pace kicking a stray pebble, the blonde boy continued, "Look, you're not a person here. You can forget all that being who you are shit, because here you're only a number-," The boy grabbed for Brenton turning his arm upward to face him,"323."

Brenton yanked his arm free, running his fingers over the sensitive skin, the boy tilts his head, "New to the code, huh?"

"Code?"

"Barcode, it's what they call us for short. That's weird, because even some who aren't reaped yet, still get lasered. Where are you even from?"

Brenton stopped walking entirely, "Around."

"Hmm. You're from the farm now."

"Farm?"

"Yh, like cattle? Moooo."

The boy laughed, "That's' all we are. We keep our heads down, work on our trade, and hope we make it to twenty, so we can leave."

Brenton squared his shoulders, "Maybe, I just can't do that."

"Then you'll die."

"Alright."

The boy shook his hair, causing it to stick to his face, "You don't get it. You're not a person here. And the sooner you learn the lay of the land, the sooner the rest of us can stop worrying about being buried beside you."

Brenton averted his eyes looking to his right then back to the boy, "What's your name?"

"193."

"No, your real name."

"It is."

Brenton held up his hands, "Fine, the one you were given before you became a cow."

"They called me Carr."

Brenton held out his hand, "Brenton."

Carr eyed Brenton's extended hand warily; finally he takes it shaking strongly. Carr drops his hands quickly, backing up from the other boy. Brenton raises an eyebrow, question on his face.

Carr points behind him, "Careers."

Brenton turns around, noticing three large boys walking straight for them. Their clothes are different than what the others have the differences easy to spot. Where Brenton and Carr's clothing is gray and stiff, the other boys are dressed in all black, silver boots stomping through the mud. The leader keeps eye contact with Brenton, his eyes golden hard. Carr raises a hand up, his arm stretched in front of him.

"Serkan! How's it going, buddy?"

Serkan reaches the two boys, pushing Carr over into the mud, "Shut up, piss ant."

Brenton bends down helping the boy up, Carr pushes him off immediately. Brenton comes to the conclusion that human contact and kindness isn't something normal here. Serkan steps in between Brenton and Carr, his breath heating Brenton's cold face.

"They told me we had a new guy, but I wasn't expecting someone so … infamous."

Brenton narrowed his eyes, keeping his guard, "What are you talking about?"

"You're his kid right? Rebel Mellark?"

The two other boys with Serkan let out gasps, as Carr rounds Serkan to look at Brenton closely.

"Holy shit! You are his kid. I can't believe I didn't see it before."

"Tell me boy. Does being a pussy run in the family?"

"You're very transparent trying to get a rise out me. Next time try using someone against me who I don't hate more than you."

Brenton turned to walk up the hill, Serkan rushing up to him, "MELLARK!"

Brenton stopped in his tracks looking over for a way out, he noticed that most of the yard was abandoned, other than the boys behind him. The guards had moved away from their posts, and this made Brenton's stomach turn.

Serkan made his way in front of Brenton once again, stopping him in his tracks, "I heard your mother a was code. She ran away is what they tell me. I say she was tired of fucking all the same people, and went to whore herself out to your asshole father. What's it like to have a criminal and a whore for parents?"

Brenton smirked, "You tell me."

"I'm sure your whore mother is proud of her bastard son."

Brenton's eyes blazed, shifting forward, his elbow connected with Serkan's nose. Blood spilled freely, although not deterring him from tackling Brenton to the ground, both boys rolling down the hill of mud. Finally landing on even ground, Brenton is forced up, as one of Serkan's followers punches him against the face sending him down forcefully, Serkan takes this advantage to drag Brenton through the mud. His head bangs on hard sharp rocks, with a thud.

Swiftly Brenton twists his body, his right foot connecting with Serkan's jaw. Brenton stands up, keeping his guard up, twisting the arm of one of the boys until he hears a break, the boy calling out in pain, as Brenton kicks him forward.

His crumpled body melting into the mud. The other boy comes up behind Brenton, where he easily hip tosses the heavy boy forward, bringing his boot down on the boys face.

Brenton turns, assuming to find Serkan, on the ground also, however, he's far too fast when Brenton sees the heavy rock in the boys hand, as it collides with his jaw.

Suddenly everything goes black, as Brenton stares into the mud. Before he passes out, he wonders if underestimating Serkan may have been a mistake.

* * *

002C.

_**DARIA**_

I wipe the mirror free of the steam blocking the view of my face. I'm met with tired haunted eyes, which have experienced far too much beyond their years. My entire body aches, making it hard to stand upright. I push back my dark hair, beads of water falling freely around my sore naked body.

I trace my long fingers over my body, it's become a ritual I do each time I get back from one of my _visits. _I trace the light bruises over my arms, moving around my neck and over my breasts. I cup each one turning to each side surveying my body.

I release my chest, moving my fingers over my face to make sure I've washed off the remainder of paint that hadn't came off during the train ride. When I'm positive it's all been washed down the drain, I try to smooth down the bags forming underneath my eyes.

This had been a bit harder on me than most, even though none were meant to be relaxing. It had been a birthday party for one of the council members, and he had a taste for young girls dressed as jungle creatures.

There had been around ten of us ranging from ages of ten to seventeen. He wasn't much of watcher like most of the council members I had to _entertain._ He liked to participate, and he had a preference for pain. He had picked one of younger girls to be his favorite of the night.

She had light blonde curls that rolled off her back in waves, and her brown eyes were deep and wide. Her ten year old body had been barely broken into, I had remembered her at a few events in the past, but she was never chosen to be the main attraction.

When he announced who would be his favorite, I sauntered over to him, bending down far enough so that my breasts showed partially purring in his ear that I wanted a chance to make his birthday special, and that a girl like that had no idea how to make him scream, but I did. He leered at me, before pulling me into his lap, petting my long dark hair, like you would a pet.

But I suppose that's what I am, a pet. He had beaten me until I couldn't breathe, and once again proceeded to take his sexual frustration out on my body. Halfway through, I think I blacked out, my body going with the motions, but my mind thinking about the ocean, and the deep orange of the sky before sunset, the deep purple color of the flowers my mother would weave through our hair, and the way she would throw her head back in laughter.

And sometimes when I needed to I let myself slip thinking perhaps I one day would have what my parents did, of how I imagined it from my mother's stories. A man that would cherish me, and never rape me in the middle of the room with strangers watching and cheering us on.

I suddenly break out of my reverie, my body is shaking uncontrollably. Rationally I know there's no sense in hoping, because I know whores like me never get happy endings.

I sigh deeply breathing in the scent of lavender, from the oils in the drain. It relaxes me slightly, grateful that my stylist Cinna was so generous to smuggle them in for me. He is kind and strong which I both envy of him and worry.

This world is not a place of hope and those who think otherwise are fools. I breathe in once more reaching for the uncomfortable uniform I have to wear, the material scratching my chest as I button up the front of my shirt.

The pants are just as bad; rubbing against the thin pair of underwear we're given. I reach for my lightweight boots, lacing them up midway, the clunking sound moving through the bathroom, as I walk to the vanity.

I reach for a clear rubber band to knot up my hair, a few dark wavy strains escaping the piece of rubber. I lay out my dress I wore on the train, trying to not wrinkle it further. Cinna comes for his dresses after I've vacated the bathroom, cleaning up after me.

He doesn't have to but I sometimes think he sees himself as my keeper. He's not that much older than me, but he has brilliant mind for costumes and clothing. They call him a stylist, but in reality all he does is throw glitter on the tarnished whore. His job is far more difficult than any other.

When I'm sure that the dress is laid out properly, I leave the bathroom, walking down the hallway. I finally make my way out to the yard, the dank smell of mildew assaulting me, making me wish for lavender again, when I see him throw the rock at the bushel of apples that I know are meant for Elective Snow.

He hits it perfectly, a difficult shot from the distance he was standing. The rock must have done its job, because now he's bending down to pick it up. I scoff; some of these codes are so vain that they think they can do whatever moves them.

As I'm sure I have the boy figured out he moves over to the little dreamy red headed girl that I know as 454. He's bending down to her height holding it out to her; she hesitates slightly before running off with it.

He keeps his place, and I make my way over to 454, as she rounds the corner. She's clutching the apple when I approach her.

"What is that?"

She looks up at me with meek eyes, "Nothing."

"The hell it isn't. That's a death sentence if anyone sees you with it," I sigh seeing the pain in her eyes, "go into the quarters and hide under the bed. Eat it as fast as you can, and wash your mouth and hands after wards. Do you understand?"

A small smile comes to her face as she nods, and runs down the sidewalk, to where the younger girls sleep. I round the corner, my curiosity about the boy has gotten the best of me. I search for him and finally find him walking the yard with the boy I've come to know as Carr.

We don't dare use our birth names around the guards or even some of the other codes, but Carr is one of the few people here I truly respect and trust. Even in spite of his quick mouth he's the best at smuggling anything you need into the compound.

He and the boy with the good aim are now standing in the middle of the yard talking. The boy looks tense and guarded where Carr seems as laid back as always. I lean my face against the cold stone watching the boy, and I find myself drawing my eyes up and down his body.

My face becomes red when the shame of what I was thinking sinks in. I'm just as bad as the perverts who use my body as their personal play thing.

I'm thrown out of my train of thought when I see Serkan, arguing with the boy, his two cronies flanked beside him. The boy blows him off, walking up the hill towards me. My face becomes red again, and I'm back to thinking those thoughts again, when I'm shocked by the name Serkan is calling the boy. _Mellark_.

I suck in a breathe when, I realize that if this is true, than the resistance leader's son has been thrown into the one place that is sure to get him killed. However, before I can finish my thought, he's rolling down the hill with Serkan, and fighting off his cronies as well.

His fighting is swift but also sloppy, and I get the feeling it isn't for show but survival. He finally gets the upper hand, but becomes too cocky, not noticing the weapon Serkan has picked up from the ground.

He turns at the last minute to be knocked to ground unconscious and my heart unexpectedly falls. I finally notice that Carr has left the yard a while now and only the boy, Serkan and the battered other boys remain.

I start to turn around when I hear one of the doors open to reveal Elective Snow walking out with a few guards. He waves Serkan away and instructs the guards to put the unconscious boy in one of the solitary blocks. I run the other direction, rounding the corner as I see the boy being dragged into the hallway and thrown into an empty cold room.

I decide that I'll wait until only the guard we know as _Darius_, is there and ask him if I can take care of the boys wounds. I feel a sense of obligation all of sudden, this sickening need to take care of this boy, albeit man is rising up through me. And it frightens me.

* * *

002D.

_**BRENTON**_

I am acutely aware of the medicinal stench, wafting around my body. The cold stone floor stings my knuckles as my arm hangs from the bare mattress. My body feels like one giant elaborate bruise, starting from my toes up to the top of my naked scalp.

I try to open my eyes, which one I'm sure is slightly swelled, the light bright and harsh. I curse the blinding light, assuming it is the sunlight seeping through, only to notice an artificial light positioned above my head.

The blinding light makes my head pound, I groan from its effect. I roll onto my back slowly, my ribs sore and unrelenting. I can hear the shuffling of feet, from my position on the mattress. I assume to see another guard, keeping post beside my bed.

I'm surprised to instead have a dark head of hair come into view, falling into waves down their back. With their back turned, I'm not able to see much, but by the small stature and curve of hips, I assume it's a she.

My hypothesis is shown correct when she turns, back to me, and my breathe catches in my throat. I give out a low guttural groan, at the sight I'm taking in.

I'm met with the most incredible green eyes I've ever seen. The almond shaped eyes are accompanied by soft golden skin, which shines under the harsh lamp light. Her dark thick hair frames her face in waves, allowing her bone structure to become easily noticed.

She leans over me, running her fingers over my forehead, her chest only inches from my face. My cheeks go red due to her body next to me. She mumbles about the pain I must be in, assuming that my red cheeks and groan from before have to be due to my present physical being and not her presence.

I reach up to where she's feeling, my hand covering hers. This causes her to flinch, taking her hand away from me, her posture straightening. I finger the tiny threads that are now stitched through my skin.

"I did the best I could with the resources I have."

"Thanks."

She ignores my gratitude turning back to the steel table, where I can see it contains a bowl of water, clothes, ointments and various spools of thread, along with a needle. I sit up, my back leaning into the brick wall, the bed is up against.

"I went ahead and treated the other various wounds you had on your body. You've must have had quite a few days."

I swallowed, my throat raw, "You could say that."

She turns around, her hands behind her leaning on the steel table, "I found more than one deep gash located on your skull. How many times have you been knocked unconscious, in the last few days?"

"I lost count."

"Well, you may want to end your streak, seeing brain damage can come from that."

"Why would you even care, I've been told that being human here is a liability."

Daria looks down at the brick floor, "It is for the most part. So don't get used to my help."

She pushes herself off of the table, walking over to me reaching for my right arm. Leaning over my waist, she turns my arm up to her. The swelling on the tattoo has almost disappeared; she runs her fingers over the markings. I notice an oily sheen is covering my skin, the stench of urine faint, over powered by the smell of mint.

"What is that?"

"An ointment made from animal urine and mint leaves."

She looks up to gauge the expression on my face, when all I do is smile faintly at her.

"It doesn't freak me out. I'm used to having to improvise with things found in nature."

Daria nods, her dark hair falling into her face, "Hmm."

I'm almost knocked over by the sweet smell of lavender that wafts off of her skin and hair. A heat starts to rise up my body; the embarrassment I'm feeling is not lost on me.

She stands up from my body, moving back over to the steel table, gathering up her things in her nimble arms. I open up my mouth to say something but nothing comes out as she knocks on the door.

My mouth is still agape, when a red headed guard opens the door for her. She turns back to me, one foot over the threshold, a small smile on her delicate, striking features.

"Maybe I'll see you again soon, Brenton Mellark."

The steel door closes behind her with a resounding clank, echoing through my sore body. I scoot back down the mattress, allowing my body to relax. The last thought in my head before I fall asleep, is somehow an angel was able to enter hell.

* * *

**A/N: The next Chapter is entirely PK's story which will provide information for the later parts of the story. I hope you the readers are still hanging on, I promise it gets very good.**

-Stace


	3. Chapter 3

****Rated Adult for Language, Character Death and Explicit Sexual Situations

Dedication: I want to dedicate this story to my best friend Elyse. She helped me through this story for months, became my sounding board and made me discover ideas and situations that only made the story better. Thank you Twin! Love you Lizzie!

**003A.**

The sweet spring air billowed through the light blue curtains, causing the fabric to ride the wave, flapping against the window sill. The fair haired boy pushed the quilt down around his feet with his heels, the bed posts creaking. Flipping to his side, the bed shifted as he faced the light blue wall, matching the curtains.

The aroma of bread seeped into the room, from under the door. He breathed it in deep, still keeping his eyes closed. The steady foots step traveling up the hallway, stole his attention from the sweet smell. He groaned loudly, realizing that it was Saturday, his appointed day to do the deliveries for the bakery.

He hated having to make small talk with the lonely housewives, who wanted company. Although he was positive that a warm loaf of bread wasn't exactly what most of them had in mind. He wasn't exactly sure, but he had a suspicion that his brother Markis had been far beyond the threshold of most of their houses.

He wasn't saying that he hadn't been tempted to do so, before immediately deciding against it. His hormones were in overdrive, and he on more than one occasion had given in to self gratification. The constant teasing from Markis and at times Gale didn't help his resolve to wait for someone he cared about.

The boy was thankful for his oldest brother Jon, whose temperament was closer to his own, who would quietly comment on how fast he made his deliveries, smiling to himself. However, the dread he felt towards being seduced by older women, wasn't what caused him the most anxiety. His nerves knotted his stomach at thought of having to go to the house far up the hill.

His father and brothers determined not to tell him much about the other type of activities they participated in. He hated the thought of them not trusting him enough to allow him to help.

A banging at the door broke his train of thought, causing him to knock his head on the back board. The door swung open, as he rubbed his head, a look of annoyance passed over his face.

Markis walked into the room, smirking at his younger brother, "Peeta, stop yanking it, and get up."

Peeta continued to rub where a knot was sure to be forming," That hurts."

"Hurts? Then you're doing it wrong."

Peeta reached for the pillow below his head, pitching it at Markis, hitting him in his broad chest, "You're disgusting!"

Markis laughed, as Peeta glared, "Come on, penis. Time to get up."

Peeta sat up swinging his feet over to the side, the quilt falling below where his feet stopped. His back slumped over, while he ran a hand over his chest.

"I wish you would stop calling me that."

"Well, you can wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up faster."

Peeta lifted up a brow, "Nice. How is it that girls find you the littlest bit attractive?"

Markis scratched his brow, "For one I don't waste my time waiting for someone who will never show. And second...women are stupid."

"The ones you find are."

Markis grins, his dimples deep, "That's how I like them."

Peeta laid his head in his hands, shaking it, causing his hair to wisp against his temples. Stretching his legs gingerly, he pushed himself off the twin bed, his socked feet hitting the wood floor. Markis turned to walk out stopping short next to the door.

He bent down picking up a rolled sheet of canvas. He laid it out against the flat surface of the door. Peeta didn't notice what he was doing, too occupied with digging through his hamper, looking for his jeans from the night before. When he located the colored pencils, he tugged them free of the pocket, turning to his brother.

His body tensed when he saw, Markis looking at the painting. The deep grey eyes of the painting stared him down, her dark hair tangling around her jaw line. Anger surged through him, feelings of violation running through his body. He rushed over to Markis, pushing him to the side.

Markis snorts at the smaller boys attempt at pushing him out the door. He towers over his younger brother, who stands at only 5'10, the shortest of the four Mellark men. Peeta snatches the canvas from his brother's hand, nearly tearing it, holding it behind his back.

"Is she who you jerk off to?"

"Not everything has to revolve around your dick, Markis."

Markis looks genuinely curious, "It doesn't?"

Peeta pushes against his chest forcefully, this time pushing him far enough into the hall, "GET OUT!"

Peeta slams the door, some of the paintings hanging fall to the wooden boards. He rests his head against the door, sighing. The painting still clutched in his sweaty hand, as he moves his eyes down to the rendering.

He gets chills every time he looks at the sharp lines of the girl brought to life by a mixture of paints, and thick lines of charcoal. It took him hours and hundreds of rough drawings to finally be able to transfer to the canvas.

He was thankful that his ass of a brother didn't notice all of the scattered pieces of paper that he had shoved up against the wall under his bed. He hoped that what he imagined was close to what she would have looked like now.

And in his dreams, and yes even the sorted ones that Markis would have a laugh at, she made an appearance. Peeta stood up, tossing the rolled piece of canvas on his mess of a bed, walking over to his closet. He ran his hands over the array of t-shirts, and flannel button ups.

The slight chill in the air opted him to pick both, removing them from their hangers. He pulled a pair of jeans from the floor, reaching for his heavy boots. He dressed quickly, not wanting his brother to come back, pulling off his cotton t-shirt he slept in. He slipped his jeans over the plaid boxers, quickly tugging on the t-shirt, the flannel following suit.

His boots slipped on easily over his socked feet, the laces swinging around each other like a dance. Peeta sighed, reaching for the door, finally making his way down to the first floor of their home that was located above their family's bakery.

His the thumping of his boots echoed through the hallway, soon moving through the stairwell as he made his way down stairs. The boots were a hand –me- downs, much like the jeans that fell beneath the heel of the boot, both a bit too big.

Most of his clothes had once been property of his brothers, the only downside being that both men were a bit larger than their younger brother. Peeta was well aware that his parents would be more than able to buy their children new clothing, seeing that Luka was once a council member for the Capitol.

Luka had once tried to make his son understand that most of the money that he had went to another venture. Peeta was too young to understand the meaning behind it, until a few years later when he had found a little girl and boy, siblings, in the back room of their bakery.

His father was speaking to them softly, both children looking like wounded animals. His father had rushed him out forcefully, not before Peeta had seen the strange markings on their forearms much like the one on his mothers.

The urgency his father had shown was not something in his normal demeanor. Later on, his father had explained to him that there was a burden that the Mellark family had been blessed with.

Peeta stopped asking for new clothing or anything else after that, desperately wanting to be the kind of man like his father. Peeta made his way to the back room, trying to pull his jeans back up to waist.

He rounded the corner, nearly colliding into his mother, who was busying herself with the contents of their family cabinets. Her body tilted slightly, the cans she was handling fell on their sides. Peeta winched, as she tried to find her balance. He reached for her, his hands being pushed away roughly.

"I'm sorry, mother."

She straightened herself, moving her hands down her rumpled dress, a glare on her round face, "You always were an empty headed daydreamer. Something your father encourages on a regular basis."

Peeta positioned himself in front of the shelves, "Here let me help."

She slapped his outstretched arm away, "No! I can get it from here."

Peeta nodded, walking around her to make his way to the back room where his father was sure to be. When he was a few feet from her, he snuck a look behind him. She had resumed her fiddling with the canned goods, her light brown hair falling into her eyes.

Saturdays always made her nervous, her need to busy herself while his father and brothers were conducting their hushed conversations, made the ones who weren't invited crazy. Aside from his mother, Peeta was the only member of the family who wasn't allowed to discuss certain things, or participate in certain tasks.

He sighed, tired of the distance she put between herself and the rest of her family. Peeta's father had off handily mentioned to him, his mother had been used by the capitol. Peeta wondered if her decision to be cut off from the rest of her family had been because of that.

He decided worrying about his mother would take far too much time than he had, turning back to his previous destination. As he made it closer to the curtain that separated the back room from the hallway, he could hear hushed tones.

Peeta tried to still his breathing, not wanting to get caught ease dropping on the conversation. He could easily pull out the voices of his father and older brothers, although the other was harder to point out. Markis would occasionally make a crude remark, soon after their father would gently remind him the reason of why they were there.

Peeta leaned in, careful not to disturb the thin fabric, the last thing he needed was to fall face first into the room, where he wasn't supposed to be near anyhow.

Most of the conversation was too hushed for him to hear, and what he was able to hear was said in a type of shorthand he didn't understand. Something about codes, and farms which seemed strange to be in the same conversation. His father's tone became even more serious, when the subject about a _code _who was hiding in the forest, comes into the discussion.

Markis comments on the great deal of trouble this one girl had caused him. _So the codes were people?_ Peeta thought back to the siblings he once saw with their marked arms, the one on his mothers arm an exact match. That's when the conclusion of his father and brothers helping people came into his mind.

Now more than ever he wanted to join his family in their business. He leans forward, balancing on his toes, trying to hear even more. He lets his mind start to think about the girl hiding in the forest. _Is she alone? How old is she? _His mind goes to the conversation he had with his father, after he saw the markings on his mothers arm.

He had innocently asked her about it, receiving a venomous reaction from her. Mumbling under her breathe about ignorant, curious children, needing to mind their own business. My father had taken her to bed, seating me in his lap, hugging my six year old body close to his. He spoke, his mouth to my ear.

"_There are those in this world that try to define who we are as people. Never forget Peeta, you are who you aspire to be. Not the bines that others try to lock us into."_

This had confused Peeta, his six year old mind unable to understand the meaning of the statement. Now, he was much older, and able to understand the deep meaning behind those few sentences. His back tensed and ached from holding this position.

He was thankful that he had at least some training, to strengthen his body. He had done some wrestling in school, winning a few awards, however sports were never really his thing. The only reason he had joined the team was too try to wipe out all of Markis' previous records, which he had.

The opportunity to wipe his brothers' smug look off of his face was worth all of the hours Peeta had to roll on the floor and grab a hold of other guys. Peeta let's his hands hover inches from the curtains, closer to hearing the hushed voices. Out of nowhere a hand clasps onto Peeta's shoulder.

"What the hell are you doing?"

This startles Peeta enough to make him fall face first into the back room, taking the curtains from their hitches, down with him, both sides clutched in his hands. His body hits the floor hard, with an _oomph, _his blonde bangs falling into his blue eyes.

Peeta sheepishly looks up into the blue eyes of his father, a crease on his forehead. He surveys the room from his position on the floor; Markis is holding back laughter along side with his oldest brother Jon, who shakes his head.

At the back wall Kale Hawthorne, Gale's father sighs, he too trying not to laugh. Peeta breaks the stare that has started to form between he and his father, to peer behind him to see whose the reason for his getting caught.

The lean body of his best friend Gale Hawthorne, is doubled over, gasps of breathe escaping from his mouth, as he tries not to laugh. Peeta glares at him, pushing himself off of the floor, still gripping the material.

Markis walks pass him, pushing him over with his shoulder, "What a dork."

Peeta's mouth tightens into a line, "Thanks, Mark."

Peeta throws the material to his right, wiping his hands on the legs of his jeans, "I was just…umm…looking for the invoices for the deliveries for today."

Markis mumbles a response, slapping Gale's arm before he makes his way to the front of the bakery. Peeta tries to ignore Gale's snickering, as tries to get the slightly smaller boys attention. However, his attention is now on his father who is in a hushed conversation with Jon and Kale.

Luka Mellark turns toward his youngest son, his bright eyes troubled, motioning with his head to Jon to something laid out on the battered wooden work table. Jon mutely nods a response, picking up the large pile, of what seems to be blueprints to Peeta, off of the table rolling them up with his long fingers.

Jon catches his brother's eyes, a slight smile on his lips; he tilts his head up slightly, motioning for the embarrassed boy to let it go. Kale Hawthorne leans to Jon's ear, careful to keep his face away from Peeta's sight.

Luka gently takes Peeta's arm, leading him into the hallway, rounding the corner away from anyone to hear. Peeta leans against the wall, his father bends down trying to match his son's height.

"Peeta what you just did-."

Peeta looks down at his feet, "Stupid, foolish, intrusive, childish? Take your pick, father."

Luka's eyes softened, "I was going to say dangerous."

The boy looks up to his father, as the older man straightens up to his full height, towering over the boy, "All I want is to help, much like Jon and Markis. I want to be a part of this family. I feel like I'm just this colossal waste of space. You all treat me like I'm a naïve kid. I'm tired of you not seeing me as vital part of this family."

Luka releases his grasp on his son, "Peeta you're different than Markis and even Jon. It's not in any way a negative thing. You're an artist, a painter, and when your term of schooling here in the district is over, you are going to University at the Capitol. There is a great gift inside you son, to make ideas into something people can see and be inspired by. It's a much more important and gallant than anything your brothers and I are involved with. And in response to you feeling like a child, I am proud that you feel as so. What I am doing is to ensure that you have the capability to do as such. It's something to fight for."

"I know about the markings on mother's arm, and even Julia's. I know that the Capitol does something to the children who are taken at the reaping, and if they come back something is different. I also know you being a former Capitol citizen assure that Jon, Markis and I will never be reaped. So what puzzles me is why would you care enough to endanger yourself as well as us? All I want is to understand, why every Saturday the bakery is filled with customers we never see any other day? Why does mother restock the pantry obsessively, keeping her time in the back? Or why it's the only day that I am assigned to do deliveries, but every other day I am to keep to painting or reading from the thick books that you assign for me to scribe? Also, why is it that you Jon, Markis, and Mr. Hawthorne are sometimes gone for days at a time? I want to understand, father."

"There are those who try to silence others. Whereas others try to give them a voice."

Peeta shakes his head, clearly annoyed, "It's all riddles. How did you answer my questions, in any way?"

Luka squared his shoulders, "Peeta there are things you don't need to know."

Peeta threw his hands up, his voice angry, "Fine! I'm going to go get the invoices and start the deliveries."

Luka sighed, as his son stalked up to the front of the bakery, "I love you, son."

Peeta stiffened his shoulders, ignoring his fathers' sentiment to his retreating back. Luka Mellark's bright blue eyes looked to the floor, the guilt of trying to keep his son safe weighing down on his broad shoulders.

Peeta seethed as he stalked up to the front, pushing the swinging doors with enough force, causing the wood to collide into the light green walls. His mother from her place behind the counter looked at him through a curtain of light brown hair.

She went back to wiping down the clear glass display counter, never making eye contact. It was strange to him that she didn't yell at him for ruining her precious walls, or that she was in the front of the bakery instead of tending her shelves in the back like she did every Saturday.

Peeta shook it off, moving behind her to reach the invoices. He noticed the way she kept her distance from him, which normally was something she did often. His mother was never especially nurturing with him or his brothers, and Peeta could count the times he had been hugged by his mother on one hand.

She had always been reclusive, keeping to herself, occasionally remarking about something she disapproved of. So for all intents and purposes she was closer to a lodger than a mother to him and his two brothers. Peeta assumed it was in effect of what had happened to her when the Capitol controlled her life.

His father would never go into detail of how he met their mother, but Peeta had the feeling it wasn't uplifting. He pawed through the stray pieces of paper lining the shelves against the wall. Finally finding what he needed, he scooted behind her, trying not to touch her.

He turned to go to the back when a tapping against the glass from outside got his attention. Jon was waving him outside, as Markis and Gale talked at the bottom of the steps, Gale animated with his hands. Peeta called a farewell to his mother, she still at the counter not responding.

He sighed opening the glass door, the chimes sounding above him. The door closed with a heavy slam, Peeta leaned against it, his head bumping it slightly. Peeta motioned behind him, turning toward Jon.

"What's going on with mother?"

Jon opened his mouth, when Markis interrupted loudly, "Who cares! She's always been bat shit crazy."

"That's' our mother, Mark."

"Do I look like I care?"

"No, you look like an asshole."

Jon sighed, moving in-between his two brothers, "Alright, that's enough."

Jon looked to Peeta, "Be careful when doing your deliveries today. Head Thread has been sniffing around the bakery today. He even came in a few times, looking around the display cases. Father even said he saw him out around back, when the sun was still down. We don't want to give him a reason to start anything."

Markis laughed, "Forget that with Penis falling on the floor. The damn thing could have been heard down into the slums."

Peeta rolled his eyes, "The Seam."

Jon glanced to the foot of the stairs where Markis stood with Gale, "Markis only talks bad about the Seam, because even though he thinks the girls there are trash and easy, they still have enough class not to sleep with him."

Peeta pressed his lips together, trying to keep a laugh from escaping, as Gale burst out laughing.

Markis glared at Jon, "Whatever,"he turned to Gale slapping him on the shoulder, "Gale I'll see you later, never knew how you became best friends with my loser of a brother."

Markis walked up the few steps, pushing Peeta over to the side, his dark hair falling into his eyes, "Have a good time on the deliveries virgin. Maybe you'll get some lady to pull your ding-dong for you."

"That's nice, Mark."

Markis shrugged, tilting his head to Jon, "What? We can't all be devoted and married to one broad, like Jon over here."

Peeta's back stiffened, as Jon grabbed Markis' arms forcefully, his voice dangerously low and angry," Watch the volume. I won't have my wife being whipped or worse because her dumb ass brother-in- law has a big mouth."

Markis ripped his arm from Jon's grasp, "Get off of me, Jon."

Markis pushed Peeta again for good measure before he opened the glass door, making his way into the bakery. Jon's face was still hard, his dirty blonde hair shining from the sunlight overhead. Peeta stood up to his full height, moving closer to his brother.

"He only said that because he's jealous you have Jules. To be honest, so I am."

Jon looked down at his little brother, his face reverting back to his normal welcoming smile," So would I if I was you. Also he's jealous of you too, being why he's partially such an ass to you."

"The other half?"

"He's just an ass."

Peeta nodded as Jon bent down, to pick up the few bags that Peeta needed to distribute. He pushed them into his brother's arms, helping the smaller boy shift them. Peeta looked into the bags, skimming over their contents. Jon pointed to one bag, his finger crumpling the paper sack slightly.

"Take this over to Julia, will you? I was supposed to but father needs me to do something for him. There are some apple tarts and a loaf of nut bread in there for her. She says the baby keeps making her crave it. Who knows if that's true, but when a girl that pretty agrees to be with you, you should never question what she says. Remember that little brother, "Jon laughs his blue eyes shining like their father's, "Also be sure to apologize to her for me, we haven't seen each other in two days. It hasn't been safe with all the enforced Keepers who keep walking the square."

"Sure, I'll let her now. Of course I can't promise she won't fall in love with me, when I'm there."

Jon gave his brother a light slap on the cheek, "Watch it little brother."

Peeta smiled, around Jon still juggling the steps as he clutched the forms in his right hand. When he made it to the second to last step, Gale took a few sacks, easily holding them in his long muscular arms. Jon waved his goodbye, entering the bakery heading to the back room, to where their father would be waiting for him. Peeta squinted down to his hand where the invoice was, trying to find the first delivery location. Gale followed him silently, kicking dirt in front of them as they walked deeper in the Quarter. Peeta motioned behind him, the bags jostling a bit, the smell of pastries working up his nostrils.

"What was that with Markis, earlier?"

Gale looked confused for a minute, then recollection spread over his sharp features, "Oh that? Nothing just told him about the time I had with Madge Undersee last night."

Peeta's jaw dropped, his arms faltered causing him to almost lose the bags, "The mayor's daughter? She seems so uppity."

Gale smirked, "Oh something was up, alright."

"You banged the mayor's daughter?"

"Dude it was insane! She kept scratching down my back, and I kept forgetting what exactly I was doing."

Peeta laughed out loud, "You're kidding me?"

"No. All I was trying to get was some tongue, but then she pushed me up against the wall and started to undue my belt."

"Where were you?"

"Across the slag heap."

"At the school? Gale that's creepy."

"Not when you're with a girl that hot. Besides I think I may really like her. Don't tell Markis, he'll give me shit."

Peeta creased his brow, rounding the corner, "Markis and I don't talk, so don't sweat it. I still wouldn't have pictured you and the mayor's daughter."

Gale stops in his tracks, "Is it because I'm Seam trash?"

Peeta stops feet in front of him, "Come on man, you know that didn't cross my mind for a second. Besides maybe you're the one who thinks you're not good enough for her."

Gale sighed bridging the gap, "You're probably right."

"Let's get this done."

Peeta looked at Gale; he held his back straight scanning the Quarter for any Keepers. Gale's family had been from the Seam, which was seen as the slums by anyone that lived in the Quarter. The shacks and blue collar workers who lived in them were worn and calloused.

Most of the Quarter was Capitol affiliated, seeing anyone from the Seam lower than dirt. Peeta saw a silent strength in the people from the Seam, a need to not let anything take what was important to them…their pride.

And that was the reason why most of Quarter inhabitants hated the Seam dwellers. Unlike them the ones from the Seam weren't for sale. It also seemed ironic to Peeta that more often than not, the children from the Seam were the ones that were reaped.

Peeta had met Gale when they were seven, Gale lanky with his dark head of hair and scowl, a definite contrast to Peeta with his bright hair and even brighter smile.

A few of the Quarter boys were teasing him about his mother being from one of the concentration camps, where she had been at the age of twelve until Luka Mellark married her when she was nineteen, yelling at him that even if his father was from the great Capitol his mother was still trashy.

The chubby one he recognized as the butchers kid pushed him into the mud, erasing the picture he had been making in the mud with a thick twig. His blonde hair becoming dark with mud, his light blue dress shirt now drenched with water from the puddle that was beneath him.

Peeta was decided to ignore them, and hope the taunting would stop soon, when he heard cries and saw the butcher's son lying on the ground next to holding the side of his face, bawling his eyes out. Peeta looked up seeing the other boys on the ground, wailing.

A lanky dark haired boy with gray eyes, seethed with anger above them, twisting one of the boys arms behind him, causing him to wail out in even more pain.

The boy, who later introduced himself as Gale, gave a helping hand to Peeta. Gale was from the Seam where he lived with his parents and three younger siblings, where his father worked in the mines.

Before that he had been a part of the Capitol military, a captain, to later resign when he wished to marry and have children. Gale had been conceived before Kale and Hazelle had married, labeling Gale as a basterd, which would have to be filed and Gale would have been automatically taken from his mothers care to a herding house, a type of orphanage, where he would live until the age of twelve and be sent to one of the camps.

Most children at the herding houses never lasted past ten, the few that did had mothers from the Capitol, and even then it was definite they would be placed with a family from the Capitol. Usually used as manual labor, but they never had to worry about becoming like the children from the camps.

When Peeta had run home to introduce his new friend to his father, Luka had seen the strength in the boy, instantly curious about his parents. Luka had walked Gale home, meeting Kale and Hazelle. Luka had learned about Kale's time in the service, seeing that his connections could help with the trading laws, and transportation of goods, Luka Mellark designed it so that Kale Hawthorne would be in charge of the bakery, and a few other business' shipping and trading supply lines.

This had immediately moved the Hawthorne's living arrangements from the Seam to the Quarter. Peeta had been given a friend, and neighbor, where Gale's family had been given a new life. Both of their lives had been changed by a spirited boy from the Seam.

The deliveries went by quickly with the both of them splitting up the work. Peeta had to side step a few of the women that tried to pull him into their houses with the promise of a back rub or tea.

He could hear Gale a few houses down once telling the blonde in the yellow house that he was madly in love with a goddess, he had gotten a slammed door in his face, which made Peeta snicker. Finally after bags of baked goods and desperate women, there was only one that remained.

Gale sat on the ground with a sigh, "I'm telling you Peet I almost had to give it to the brunette on the corner. Do they always answer the door wearing so little clothing?"

"Yh. They probably thought you were Markis."

"Believe me the way she was begging for it, she wasn't thinking of Markis."

"Why would you care anyway? Aren't you in love?"

Gale pointed up to Peeta, he squinted up at him through the sun, "I swear Mellark if you tell anyone I will beat the shit out of you."

Peeta sat next to his best friend lying the bag down next to him," I won't tell. Honestly man, I'm happy for you."

Gale ran a hand through his dark hair,"Yh, yh."

Peeta leaned against his knees, "Do you find it irritating that our fathers don't share with us what they do in the back room on Saturdays?"

"No, not really. But I guess it comes from being a military kid. There are some things you're better not knowing."

Peeta nodded then whipped his head over, the blonde hair moving in the wind, "You just say you. Meaning me."

"Peet-"

Peeta jumped to his feet, "You know?"

Gale stood up slowly, his hands up, "Peet you're going places, you soon will be some famous artist. This life isn't for you. Honestly, I don't think you would have the stomach for it."

Peeta ran a hand over his face, "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Gale sighed with frustration, "Don't do that, don't make me feel like an ass for telling you the truth. Damn Peet! The first time we met you were getting your ass kicked by that fat fucker Louis Astin. You're not a fighter Peet, and that's ok."

"Neither is Jon."

"Yh, but Jon has someone to fight for. He has Julia."

Peeta walked over to the bag of bread, turning his back on Gale," Speaking of I gotta go."

Peeta stalked off, fisting the brown paper sack, his feet felt heavy as he kicked through the dirt and rocks. He could still hear Gale calling after him when he rounded the corner making his way up to the house on the hill.

The walk was steep; Peeta's leg , weakened from years of wrestling, dragged him down, his anger draining his body of any energy. The sides of the bag were starting to tear from the tight grip, he had on the material. Finally after about a mile of walking, Peeta was now standing in front of the massive porch that was connected to the two story house.

The house had been on this land longer than anyone who lived in the Quarter or even the Seam and most of its resident's families were generational. Peeta walked up the creaking steps, onto the porch, bending down to a lose board he reached into the bag of bread taking out a slip of paper which is scribed with numbers all over, Peeta guessed were coordinates.

He lifted the board up slipping the paper inside and replacing the loose board. Peeta assumed it was for a contact of his father's, who he couldn't help but question who it may be.

Peeta stood up making his way to the door and finally turning the knob, pushed the door open. Peeta resisted the urge to cough as he walked through the living area which would be used to entertain company, the dust flitting up to the high beam ceilings. Peeta would play in here when he was little, seeing it as the only place where he could truly be himself.

Now it served as a type of deep secret that he was never truly able to know. The old familiar boards creaked beneath his feet, as he made his way to the basement door. He held the bag close to his body, surely crushing the bread.

However, if he wasn't ready she would surely injure him somehow. Slowly he turned the knob, his other hand burying his nails in the paper. The door flew open and the six teen year old boy was met a severely pregnant woman holding a ten inch blade, the tip lightly touching the skin of his neck.

Peeta gulped, the tip digging in slightly, "Hey Jules."

The woman's eyes grew wide, her hand pulling the blade back quickly, "Peeta! I'm so glad it's you," she looked to the hefty blade she was wielding, "Sorry about that."

Peeta stepped down the stairs, closing the door behind him, "It's cool. You probably just thought it was a Keeper."

Julia blushed, "Actually, I thought it may be Markis."

Peeta stepped on the stair beside her, making it hard to share with her swollen belly, "Really?"

Julia's face scrunched, "Yes, last time he said I was getting fat."

"He calls me Penis."

Julia covers her mouth, her pale skin becoming red as she laughs making her strawberry blonde hair shine even more than usually, "I know. Jon told me."

Peeta shook his head, taking her arm to help her down the rest of the stairs. When they made it to the floor, Peeta helped her over to bed that was sitting in the middle of the room. She sunk into the mattress, a groan escaping her lips, happy to be off her feet.

"Speaking of, where is that husband of mine?"

"He had some stuff to do for father. He also sends his lowly apologies. So I was sent as an inadequate substitute."

"Thank the spirits it was you and not Markis."

Peeta nods holding up the bag of bread, Julia smiles pointing over to a partially painted desk across the room. She rubs her stomach, the sleeve on her right arm rising up showing her mark. Peeta stares at it, as Julia rests the blade next to her on the mattress.

Peeta points to her arm, "Did it hurt?"

Julia is almost confused to what he's referring to, when she catches his eyes on the faded red mark. Her deep brown eyes become glassy, when she meets his questioning blue ones.

"A little. Actually it felt like my skin was burning off. I almost passed out."

Peeta walked over to the foot of her bed, sitting down gently, "Was your family there with you?"

Her brown eyes became glassy, "Yes. I lost two older brothers in the arena. Since we were district seven, both of them could swing an axe like breathing."

Peeta raised an eyebrow, "Arena?"

"Peeta I think your questions should be for your brother or your father."

Peeta jumped off the bed, "They never answer my questions!"

Her face became soft but sad, "I'm not going to be the person to tell you those answers, and it's not my right. Also, have you maybe considered that its best you don't know. There are some things that can't be unsaid."

"I've already been fed that line of sorts. From everyone, including Gale, who thinks I'm too sensitive for any of it."

"Have you tried to understand that they might be right? You're so special Peeta Mellark; you have a gift to inspire with both your art and your words. Both are two things severely lacking in this world."

Peeta sat on the floor, his hands landing on his knees, "If it isn't everyone keeping secrets from me, its Markis teasing me about being a virgin."

Julia leaned her head back against the wall, "Well Markis is a whore. But someday Peeta you will find someone that lights the world on fire for you. She'll need you as much as you need her and all the physical stuff will just come naturally."

"Is that how it was with you and Jon?"

"It came slowly with us, like a slow burn. He caught me by surprise."

Peeta smiled, "Maybe someday I could hear that story."

Julia's brown eyes shined, the dark freckles on her pale skin apparent, "Of course."

Peeta reached into his pocket taking out a folded piece of a paper, he stood up walking to her, "Here I made this for you. It's what the baby may look like, "Julia unfolded the thin piece of paper, "I used more of your looks than Jon's because let's face it, you're better looking."

"Oh, I wouldn't sell you Mellark's short. Very handsome, even Markis who can be a tool."

They both laughed together, Julia ran her fingers over the thick lines of pencil markings. It was as if she was trying to memorize it with her fingertips. Peeta moved over to her side looking at the sketch, critiquing everything he had done wrong, Julia would slap his hand away playfully.

They stood there for a bit, teasing each other and talking about how his niece or nephew would turn out. Peeta felt close to Julia, she was warm, courageous, nurturing, but also guarded at times. He was positive if she hadn't fallen for his brother, she would be the type of woman he could love.

It came as a shock, a slap in the face when they first heard the gun shots. Peeta thought back to when he was a kid and he had gone to the Capitol with his brother once for festival and fireworks were shot into the sky. Peeta ran to the small window that was in the basement.

He looked up into the sky, the sun burning spots into his eyes. This time there were no colors, only a bright sky that hung over death. Peeta yelled for Julia to stay put, as she tried to get up from the bed, her knife gripped in her palm.

Peeta ran out of the old house, the boards creaking loudly, as he pounded on each one with his boots. The run down the hill was faster than he would have imagined, his heart pounding through his chest. His eyes strained through the sweat that had rolled down from his forehead.

He finally made it to the Quarter, running through the square to where he could make it a straight shot to the bakery. When he reached the alleyway that was a stone's throw from his home, he stopped short when he saw his father and Markis being walked out of the bakery.

Keepers has their rifles pointed at each of their heads, Peeta's father complied keeping his eyes front. Markis on the other hand argued, trying on more than one occasion to slap the barrels away. Out of the corner of his eye Peeta saw the black head of hair of Lucious Thread walking toward his father and brother, he stopped short in front of a riled up Markis.

He was pointing toward Luka Mellark, who still kept his face unreadable. Peeta tried to see into the glass window of the bakery searching for his mother and Jon.

Peeta looked over the corner slightly, while still being in the shadows of the alley. Peeta felt bile come up when he saw the pool of dark liquid sliding down the cobble stones of the square, from more than a half dozen of small limbs.

The children, more technically, their bodies were stacked onto each other, as if it's how they had fallen after the bullets had littered their small bodies. Peeta was brought back to his family when he could hear Markis screaming, Thread inches from his face. Peeta could see from his spot, Markis' body tense as he worked up mucus and saliva spitting it into Threads hard face.

Markis smirked when it landed, pleased with his act of rebellion. The soldier behind him hit the back of his knee caps with the butt of his rifle. Markis fell to the bloody cobblestones crying out in pain, his father breaking his composure to help him up.

However, before Luka could reach his son Thread had already pulled his firearm from the back of his uniformed slacks, pointing the barrel at the boy's skull, lodging a bullet into his forehead, matting his long bangs into the entrance point.

Markis' broad frame fell over limp, his green eyes still open, now glassy, and lifeless. Luka Mellark wailed out in pain, throwing himself at his son's limp body. He folded his body into his son's the sobs racking his body, the blood pooling out around them.

Peeta swallowed the vomit that came up into his throat, his body shaking. His father looked up into the face of his son's murderer, his lips moving. The tall man sat up, closing his eyes as he too fell victim to Thread and the push of a trigger.

Luka's body fell onto his son's to soon join him, wherever he may be. All of the strength left the boy's body as he tried to step forward. He placed his foot out of the alleyway slightly, as rough hands pulled him back into the shadows.

Peeta started to protest when he was pushed to the wall, the blue eyes of Jon trying to hold back tears. Jon looked over to the front of the bakery as the Keepers started to break windows.

Peeta's voice broke, "Jon. What happened?"

His face fell, "I don't know Peet. But we can't stay here, "Jon threw a bag at Peeta's chest that he had been carrying, "I packed some of your stuff before they came into the bakery. I think father knew they were coming, he had me pack you a bag."

"Where's mother? Was Mr. Hawthorne there?"

"No Kale left hours ago, besides they don't know his involvement. Mother left hours before he did, right after you and Gale left to do deliveries," this broke Jon form his train of thought, "I need to get Julia. I want you to make it to the Seam, outside of the meadow, and we'll rendezvous there."

"Jon, what about father and Markis?"

Jon grabbed his brother's face, "Peeta we can't worry about that right now. What we need is to survive this and then we can morn. Alright?"

Peeta nodded, "Ok."

Jon pulled the boy from the brick wall, "Let's go."

"What about mother?"

Jon's face fell, "I wouldn't worry about her, Peeta," Jon pushed his brother forward, "Now run to the Seam, and stay hidden."

Peeta ran taking alleyways and scouting out his way as he went. His legs cramped, as the bile rose once again. The pack that Jon had given him was heavy and thumped against his back. He finally made it to the Seam, directly going to the house that once was the Hawthorne's. Peeta slumped against it, trying to keep hidden. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder; sure it was his turn for a bullet. However, instead when he looked up he saw the grey eyes of his best friend.

"Gale."

He hugged the ragged boy, "Peet, holy shit! I thought you were dead."

Peeta's voice was weak and scratchy, "Your father?"

"He's fine. Thread just walked past our house not even looking at us."

"Jon said they probably didn't know about your father."

Gale breathed, "I hope so."

Peeta looked at him, Gale's face already looking guilty, "Gale it's ok to be relieved."

The sounds of boots made the boys crouch closer to the dirt; Peeta peered over the old boards of the porch, to see Jon dragging a very pregnant Julia behind him, her head hung over with pain. She stopped running shaking her head. Jon pulled at her arm, the anger causing his voice to rise.

"..YOU!"

Tears were streaming down her face, "Jon, just go! Save your brother. He's what matters, not me."

Jon spun her to him holding her face, "Don't you know you are everything to me? Always."

Julia hugged him close, her swollen belly where their child rested in-between them. Jon's arms tightened on her when the Keepers flooded the way they entered the Seam. Peeta kept his vantage point as Gale tried to pull him down. Jon pulled back slightly keeping his grip on his wife, his blue eyes locking onto her deep brown ones.

"I love you Jules."

Tears streamed down her dirt streaked face, "I love yo-"

Her words were cut short as a bullet tore through her back, traveling through her stomach to finally lodge itself into Jon's gut. The both of them falling over to the coal dusted earth. Julia's body rolled off of Jon's as her arms fell outwards, the small piece of paper she was clutching flying out of her palm to ride the waves of the wind.

The portrait of her now dead child riding off to oblivion. Jon gasps for air, holding his gut, the dark liquid rushing through his fingers. He rolls on his side crawling to the body of his now still wife. The Keepers rush over to him, crowding his body so Peeta can't see. Peeta starts to jump up as Gale pulls him to the ground, forcing his body on Peeta's. He has his forearm against Peeta's throat, cutting off his voice.

"Shut up Peet. I'm not letting you get your fucking self killed."

Peeta starts to fight him off earning a punch to the face for his effort. Peeta lays there, the fight draining from him when he hears the gun shot, signaling the death of his other brother. Gale peers up to see most of the Keepers leaving the square, a few left to recover the bodies of Jon and Julia. His grip lightens on Peeta's throat, allowing him to speak.

"They don't know about you Gale. If they haven't come for your father, they won't come for his children."

"I'm still coming with you."

"No, I won't bury another brother."

Gale scooted off of Peeta allowing him to sit up, he enveloped him in a hug, "Be careful my friend."

Peeta hugged him back, "You too."

Gale gave him one last look before letting him go and sneaking the back way behind the Seam houses. Peeta took a deep breath clutched his bag, and sprang to his feet running out from the cover of the Seam houses. He didn't dare look back at the bodies he knew to be lying there or even the pools of blood that had clumped with the coal dust.

Shouting rose behind him as he commanded his legs to run faster. All he had to do was get to the tree line and he would be home free. The Keepers were forbidden to go into the forest seeing that it was property of Elective Snow, as was everything, but with the wilderness it was unmapped and had many places where the Keepers could be ambushed.

Peeta made it feet from the tree line, when he felt shocking pain ride up his leg into his back. He collapsed into a tree, looking down to his leg where blood had already soaked through his jeans. He'd been shot. However the adrenaline was still pumping through his broken body as he kept running, He didn't stop running until after the sun went down.

Tree limbs slashed his face, creating cuts as his bad leg hobbled behind his pace. When he was tired of running he slumped against a tree, his body falling to the earth. The bag he had been carrying now had splotches of blood on the canvas from where it had slapped into his leg. Peeta knew he was going to die and this seems a good place as any.

He leaned his head against the tree trunk. This morning he started out with a family, now he was alone. He was going to be a painter, now he was a fugitive. The irony of his situation wasn't lost on him. This morning he wanted to be a part of the fight and now he was. Peeta closed his eyes, waiting for the end to come. His head slumped over as sleep took him over, his hands falling open.

A few miles away Katniss Everdeen would start her day in a few hours with her daily hunt. However, what she would find would set her on a journey that would change the course of her entire life.

* * *

**003B.**

The old cabin creaked and sung in tune with the whistling wind, the medley traveling up to the high ceiling of the wooden structure. Even with the fireplace burning through the night, there was still a chill in the dwelling from the cold spring air. Hesitant naked feet slipped from under the thread pulled blanket, calloused feet dangling inches from the floor boards.

A shudder traveled up her petite body, the tone once prominent gone from years of abuse and hunger. Her joints popped, as she sat up stretching out her limbs, a small groan escaping her lips. The thick dark hair down her back, had knotted though the night causing it to stick every which way. She had debated cutting it short, but something stopped her.

Perhaps the way her mother had loved to weave it, while placing delicate flowers in the connecting strains. Or how the tresses reminded her of the heritage her father had placed upon her.

_Katniss we are a strong people. Our legacy is to survive and be born from the ashes._

She had run the mantra through her mind every second of the day, when she had been trapped at the farm, even more so the last after she had lost Prim. She ran her boney fingers through her hair, catching in the tangles, gathering the thick hair in one hand; she pulled all of it to the front of her body. The dark curtain of hair spread against her chest, a few pieces falling into her nightgown in between her small breasts.

She threw the blanket down to the foot of the rickety mattress, the slight chill giving her a tiny shock. Her feet met the ground; she dug her toes into the grooves of the wooden boards. The sensation traveling up her spine, reminding her of the difference between jagged stone and welcoming hand cut wood. She scratched the sides of her stomach, yawning through the sleep that still hung over her. Since a month ago it was hard for her to wake up at dawn.

A peaceful nights rest, aside from the occasional nightmare, was something new to her and she would be easily caught in the bliss of sleeping without having to worry about an onslaught of abuse. She walked over to the wardrobe, opening it, greeted by the creaking of the hinges.

The smell of musky oak flooded her senses, old memories hugging her tightly; she fought back a few tears, clearing her throat. The doors hit the sides lightly, rebounding back to her; she caught the left side, concentrating on the mirror placed there.

The sight of her reflection still caught her off guard after a month. There wasn't much use for mirrors in the farm, unless you were a courtesan, and the need for a mirror seemed less than important than keeping a sense of purity.

The reflection of sharp features, finally filling in stuck her with a feeling of relief. Although her deep grey eyes still stared back glassy and haunted. There was no way she was going to beat those demons within such a small time frame. The young girl forced a tight smile, tiny lines deepened around her eyes.

"You are a survivor, Katniss Everdeen. They tried to break you. But you're still standing, stronger than ever. You are a fighter."

Katniss reached out tracing the lines of her face, as if she was becoming reacquainted with an old friend. Every morning it was the same routine of telling herself the few sentences she needed to know most, with becoming familiar with her reflection. She sighed, reaching for the thick flannel shirt, and brown slacks, that she had to take in.

She slipped her thin night gown off over her head, the material hitting the floor with a whisper. Quickly she pulled the slacks on, the air causing her skin to pimple with goose bumps. The chill wrapped around her bare chest, as it rose up from her shallow breathing. The soft flannel slipped over her body, the hem of the shirt ending at the curve of her behind.

Most of the clothing had been her father's, causing most of her days to consist of struggling with needle and thread to take them in. Quickly she threw on the rough worn hunting jacket of her father's, her thin arms sliding into an old familiar comfort. Katniss bent down to where she had left her boots the night before, slipping them on clumsily.

She was still struggling with retaining some of her agility, she worried that the relaxation of the cabin had caused some of her grace to slightly dwindle. She said a short prayer to the spirits hoping that she had hung on to some of it, seeing it would be beneficial when it came to hunting that morning.

Katniss made her way to the front room, picking up her bow and quiver that hung on the wall, next to the front door. She slinged both at her shoulder, pulling her jacket tight around her body. Katniss opened the door, a flood of early light forming around her. The scent of dew from an early shower mixed with pine tickled her nose, causing a smile to form at her lips.

She breathed in deep, closing the door behind her. She made her way down her familiar trek, picking up assorted sizes of pines branches, weaving each one with expert fingers, until she had a medium sized framework for carrying her kill as well as erasing the tracks she would be making. Katniss weaved a piece of rope she kept in the jacket pocket through the tightly woven branches. She connected the ends to her waist, securing the object to her body.

She made her way up and down the forest, occasionally hitting a few squirrels, adding them to her pile. She was hoping for a bigger kill like a grooseling or even a small buck. The meat could be dried, and ensured to keep longer. Katniss looked up into the bright sky, closing her eyes to the sounds of the forest.

Her eyes opened as she was tugged back slightly from the structure at her waist, catching on something. She leaned down lifting it free, when she saw the smallest line of blood mixing with the fallen leaves. Ever the hunter she scanned the area for a fallen animal, concerned about also a wild pack of dogs that wouldn't appreciate her intrusion on their dinner time.

Katniss untied the rope, not wanting to be slowed down if the need risen for her to run or have to climb a tree. The rope fell from her hands, as she slowly made her way up the steep hill, careful to not disturb anything in her way. The smell of metallic assaulted her senses, she was now positive that it was blood she had seen.

The thought of turning back entered her mind, but her curiosity got the best of her as she walked deeper into the forest.

Katniss kept her guard, readily able to run for cover if needed. After a few yards she finally came to the top of the hill, where she knew there was a cluster of trees. The breath caught in her throat when the sight of a far tree came into view. There appeared to be a body laid up against the sturdy oak, the head was hung over almost reaching their knees.

Katniss studied it from afar, watching for an indicator of movement. She scanned the perimeter watching out for wild dogs, which was a possibility due to the strong stench of blood. If there wasn't a wild animal in the vicinity there would be soon. She walked over to the tree slowly, using only the pads of her toes, careful not to make her mark on the area.

When she was only a few feet from the body, she studied the form. She knelt down, keeping her distance, although she was positive she needed to get closer to fully examine it. Katniss sighed; annoyed with the childlike sense of wonder she was feeling. It had been weeks since she had any human contact, and it wasn't lost on her the absurdity that a dead body made her feel less lonely.

With trepidation the dark featured young woman, knelt down, steadying her shaky legs, as the thick stench of blood choked her. With her right hand she lifted up the collar of her flannel, placing it over her mouth in hopes of lessening the smell. Katniss reached out cautiously, using a steady hand to knot her fingers through the light colored hair, bringing the head back to lean up against the tree trunk.

She was certain now that the body was male, his strong jaw with a bit of stubble which barely showed until the sunlight played off of it, led into high cheek bones which were prominent. She couldn't help but stare at him for a few seconds. Katniss leaned over his waist reaching for his forearm, glancing back at his face; she reverted back to his arm.

Pushing his long sleeve up to his elbow, she was careful not to fall into the wide blood pool now surrounding the both of them. His complexion was pale; although she was sure he was normally fair skinned. Katniss turned his arm up to her, running her long fingers over the skin there, she didn't see the marking she was sure to be.

She quickly moved to the other arm, which was now resting beside the toes of her boots. Without as much care this time, she pushed up the other sleeve, revealing it to be just as naked as the other. Katniss let go of the arm, leaning back on her heels.

Her voice came out as a whisper, "Just who the hell are you, guy?"

Katniss rested her hands on her knees, as she looked up to the sky listening to the birds sing. She stood up deciding the man wasn't a code so therefore he wasn't of any concern of hers, Katniss started to walk back down the hill. As she put a few feet between her and the body she could hear her father's voice_._

_If we are to be different than those who wish to break us, than we are to show compassion and good will. _Katniss threw her head back looking to the sky.

"You're killing me father."

Katniss stopped her trek, her hands slapping her sides, as she turned back to the tree supporting the body. She rolled her eyes, letting out a groan of defeat. She jogged the feet to the body, kneeling next to the form, reaching to the pulse point.

She finds a faint pulse signaling at least a slight sign of life. Katniss laid her hands on the man, searching for the point of injury. She made her way down his chest, finally landing at his leg, blood coating her hands. She was curious why she hadn't seen it sooner, due to the amount of blood.

His pants were soaked with the liquid, making it difficult for her to see the wound. Katniss reached for the knife in her jacket pocket with her finger tips, not wanting to smear anymore blood on the coat. When she reached the eight inch blade, she quickly cut the fabric horizontally to give herself a better view of the wound.

Katniss had to tear the fabric a bit, revealing a three inch bullet wound. Positive if she didn't tourniquet it off soon, he would bleed to death. Katniss tugged on the hem of her shirt, ripping off a significant piece. With nimble fingers she wrapped the material inches above the entry wound, tying it off.

She knew by the way her mother taught her, she had a tight window before he lost too much blood. It wouldn't matter how much she did, if she didn't take care of that bullet wound soon.

Katniss wiped the blood off of her blade, slipping it back into her inside pocket. She ran down the hill to where her makeshift stretcher was, dragging it behind her as she picked it up. She knew she was making far too much sound, but she knew time right now was precious. When she reached him, she positioned the structure next to him, rolling him onto the branches, her kill from before being discarded.

It took most of her strength to move him onto it, his body unyielding and heavy. She tried to be careful with his head, unable to stop it from landing hard on the branches. Katniss winced; slightly embarrassed that she may brain this man to death before he had the opportunity to bleed to death.

When she was sure he was completely secure, she made her way back to the cabin. She hoped that she had tied off the bleeder efficiently, not wanting to give the wild animals a trail of blood to follow to where she lived.

By time she reached the front of the cabin, she was out of breath, her body aching from dragging the fully grown man behind her. Katniss lifted the stretcher onto the porch, scooting it into the house, kicking the door open as she bent over dragging it through. The few feet she had to take it to the table, made her back ache.

With a swift movement she stood up, releasing the stretcher, sweeping the papers and empty plates to the ground. She ran to the pantry where she kept clear plastic for when she skinned her kill, pulling loose a large piece. She gathered a paring knife, clean cloths and a large basin, filling it with water that she had collected from the well the day before.

The stove was still lit, as she filled the hanging pot with water to boil. While the water heated so to sterilize her tools, she spread the clear plastic over the table. She looked down to the body at her feet, his smooth skin pale and sweaty. She was certain there was a chance he was already too far gone, but she had to try.

She crouched down placing her elbows under his arm pits, lifting him up. She groaned and huffed as she scooted his upper body onto the table, trying not to move the plastic. While still steadying his shoulders she moved from under him to swing his legs up.

When he was finally on the table she whipped her brow, moving over to the now boiling water. She moved it from the stove, pouring it into her bowl, collecting her tools, placing them into the water.

She placed a clean cloth into the cool well water, before walking over to him, cleaning off his face to look for any other injuries. When she was pleased with finding none, she placed it beside his shoulder, moving down to his feet. She removed his boots one by one, before reaching for the button and fly on his jeans.

She gulped because even though he was half dead, this was still a man she would see naked, and the thought sent her into a cold panic. She had witnessed some of the worst things man could do to each other and still the sight of a penis sent her into frenzy. Katniss Everdeen in most respects was a worldly young woman with the know how to survive in the wilderness, but when it came to anything of a sexual nature, even something as small as working on a dying man who was half naked, she was still a thirteen year old girl, not sixteen like her real age.

With a sigh she tugged off the jeans, having to pull harder as they wanted to catch in his wound track. She thanked the spirits he was unconscious, not able to build to her embarrassment. When the clothing was finally removed, she threw them to the ground going to work on the wound where it was now once again bleeding due to the absence of the tourniquet from before.

Katniss reached into the still warm water, reaching for the small blade. Small strands of hair fell into her eye line, as she bent forward concentrating on the small entry wound. Blood gushed as she pressed the small blade into the hole, maneuvering the bullet forward. She fought the urge to throw up, a wave of dizziness flooding her head.

She hated the medical lessons her mother insisted she participate in. She'd rather be with her father as he taught her about hunting or hand to hand combat. Those things were much more her forte, than digging into bleeding wounds. After an hour of pushing the metal forward she finally heard the small clang of the bullet hitting the table.

She was thankful that he had been shot on the outside of his thigh and not the main artery that ran inside the leg. She was able to stop the bleeding, and able to finally clean the site to stitch it closed with sewing thread. When she was happy with her work, the dark haired girl placed a bandage over the stitches to cover the wound until she was able to collect a few herbs to make an ointment to ward off infection.

She soaked clean cloths into water, washing his body of the dried blood and sweat. Working up his legs, she worked around his boxers, conscious not to disturb them. She carefully pulled off his layer of shirts, wiping off his chest, a flush of pink rising up her face. When she finally cleaned off his arms and hands she began gently wiping his face.

She found herself going slowly with a more steady hand, studying his features. She had to admit that he was attractive, even without being able to see his eyes, which her father always taught her was where a man's soul lived. She traced his firm jaw line with her fingers, and traveled up to his ears into his blonde hair.

She knew how ludicrous it was for her to bring him into her home; she had no idea who he was. She knew he wasn't a code like her, but there was a chance he could be a Keeper or worse. She sighed, placing the cloth down to scoot the table over to her bed. She walked around the table to pull back the sheets, then maneuvering him into the bed.

She was careful not to bump his head onto the headboard, placing his golden head onto the goose feathered pillows instead. She eased the rest of his body underneath the sheets and blanket. He was still breathing so she assumed she had done more good than harm. However, she would have to watch and see if he would have the ability to pull through.

She studied his features again; as she was struck with the feeling she had seen him before. She walked over to her mess, cleaning it completely, before she sat in the hand crafted rocking chair her father had made for her mother. She held an old quilt to her body, rocking back and forth watching the young man in the bed. The rhythmic motion lulled her to sleep, as his breathing next to her became deeper with each minute.

* * *

**003C**

Peeta awoke to the scent of pine and lavender, weaving their bodies around his own. His head was cloudy, and he half expected to still be in the woods lying up against a tree. He kept his eyes closed afraid of what he might see.

It took him a few seconds before he felt the ease of cotton against his skin, instead of a cold wind. His hands reached out gripping the sheets, fisting each thread. As if all of sudden, he was struck with the realization of being half naked.

His eyes flew open, met with the sight of a high ceiling of wooden beams. He searched for anything familiar, finally raising the sheets to look down as his bare body, aside from his boxer shorts. The pain from his right leg had lessened from before, Peeta reached down, smoothing his shaky hand over a cotton bandage.

He was more confused than ever, as he sat up against the headboard, trying to make sense of the situation.

The last thing he remembered was collapsing in the forest, preparing to die, and now he was in a bed, half clothed, and for all intents and purposes still alive. He maneuvered his body, careful not to injure his leg further, as he noticed someone sitting next to him. His breath caught in his throat, fear coming over him.

The covered form shifted a bit, allowing the quilt to fall down their body half way. The delicate features of a young woman came into view.

_What if the Keepers had found him, and she was one of them? _

Although this theory didn't carry much clout seeing he was certain the Keepers would have finished off their initial attempt. Also if by some miracle they did allow him to live, he doubted he would be taken to what appeared to be a drafty cabin. Even more unlikely would they have appointed a waif of a girl to guard him.

Peeta shook his head trying to clear it of any assumptions, as he studied her face more fully. Her bone structure was sharp and memorable, although her face looked a bit too thin for his liking. Even with her eyes closed he could tell they were round and deep connecting to a slight nose that had a minimal crook, suggesting it had been broken more than once.

Peeta became engulfed in studying her face, he supposed as an artist it was something to expect. She seemed so familiar to him, although he couldn't quite figure out why. And as if he had been hit aside the head with a ton of bricks, it came to him in a rush.

_She was the girl from the painting, and the sketches._

That would now be collecting dust underneath his bed, if Thread and the other Keepers haven't burned his home to the ground yet. He didn't have to see her deep gray eyes to know it was her, the curves of her profile told him everything he needed to know.

He shifted slightly; bringing his hand out to trace her face, when she began to stir. He assumed the creaking from the bed had alerted her of his movement. His body went still, as she shifted once again leaning her head against the head rest.

Ever so slowly, or only to Peeta as time stood still, her round deep set eyes opened to reveal steel gray. Still heavy with sleep it took her a few seconds to adjust on the boy staring at her. She stretched her arms, her dark hair falling over her face in a curtain. A deep yawn escaped her pink lips, vibrating the air between her and the young man.

"I see I didn't kill you after all. I must still have the touch."

Peeta shook his head, "I… you saved me?"

"Yes. You were bleeding badly, but I was able to stop the bleeding, and remove the bullet. By the way, just what were you doing out in the woods, other than dying?"

Even though Peeta had finally found the girl in the painting he wasn't ready to trust her just yet, "Like you said, bleeding to death."

Katniss stretched her arm to the side, popping the joint of her wrist. Peeta noticed the sleeve there riding up half way to reveal the red markings on her forearm. It was similar to the once on Julia's body, but the numbers at the bottom were different.

Peeta's eyes went wide, his body tensed, as she stared him down with cautious eyes.

_She was a code._

And he assumed this cabin was her home, nestled deep in the forest. His mind went to the last day he had with his family, when he had been ease dropping on the conversation behind the curtains. His father and Markis had discussed about a girl, a code, who was hiding in the forest. Peeta looked her up and down, her body was stiff, and she had the other hand under the quilt in her lap.

Realization flooded over him inching into his voice, "You're the code whose been hiding in the forest."

With a speed he wouldn't have expected from someone of her size, she was out of the chair, the quilt now discarded on the floor boards, and inches from him. The mere force of her body next to his pushed his body into the headboard. Her left hand was now laid flat against his ear, while the other held a blade to his throat.

Her gray eyes blazed, "I won't think twice about dropping you right here, even if I did exhaust all of my energy trying to save your ass. Now tell me how you know about me."

The blade poked into his throat as he struggled to speak, "From Markis Mellark."

"Are you a Keeper?"

"No, I'm not."

Katniss positioned her legs on each side of his body, to give her more footing, straddling him while her knife never faltered. Her dark hair fell over her chest, the olive skin bare and smooth ran over her shoulders and under the thin tank top she had on.

Her weight on Peeta's body was slight, and even with the pain in his leg, barely felt. Even with the threat of this fierce woman cutting his throat hanging over his head, he couldn't help but check out her curves and the structure of her face. He wanted to run his fingers through her tangled mess of hair.

He was thankful she wasn't positioned on his groan, or she would have been able to see the effect she had. Peeta had to mentally shake his head at himself for being physically turned on by a woman who was at the very same moment threatening to kill him.

"Where's Mellark, he was supposed to meet me yesterday at the rendezvous point."

Peeta's eyes fell as much as they could with a knife to his throat, "He's dead."

Katniss increased the pressure of the blade, her voice tight," How do you know?"

Peeta's eyes became hard, "I watched him being shot along with his father."

"How do you know the Mellark's?"

Peeta held her gaze," They were my family."

Katniss leaned back, releasing the pressure at his neck, the blade falling at her side, "You're Peeta."

"How do you know?"

Katniss swung her legs off of the bed, standing next to his chest, "You're father spoke of you often. The son of his who would someday become a famous painter," she let out a small laugh, "hell I should have known with soft hands like yours. Your father was a good man."

Peeta scooted down to the pillows, his leg throbbing from the assault of her body, "My father was a fool. He had one job, which was to keep his family safe. Where is he now? Dead along with two of his sons, his unborn grandchild, and left a young son alone to morn them all. That's who he was."

Katniss' face softened for a second, "You've had quite a day. You should rest and later we'll try to get some broth into you."

The sense of awe felt towards this one girl had now been replaced by irritation and resentment. Peeta wanted to be anywhere but in that bed. Anywhere away from the scent of pine and lavender that wafted off her body.

Her petite body with no curves and skin that was littered with faint scares, contrasting against her dark hair. His family was dead; he only assumed his mother faced the same fate, gone from this world. There was no one readily available for him to take all of his frustration out on, so this one girl would have to do. Peeta sat up starting to swing his legs over the side, when she caught his injured leg at the knee.

"What are you doing?"

Peeta panted from the pain emanating up his back, "I'm leaving."

She let out a small huff, "The hell you are! I didn't spend half the day working on your bloody gross body for you to go and pop a stitch and bleed to death in the woods. Everything I did will not be in vain, because you're a dumb ass. No way."

She held her grip, maneuvering him back onto the bed, her hair falling into his face. He wanted to rip it away, make her feel some of his pain. Katniss pulled the blanket up around his chest, smoothing the surface around his body. Peeta looked to the wall, the ceiling; anywhere her deep gray eyes couldn't find him.

"Can I at least know the wild- forest –knife- wielding- girl's name?"

"It's Katniss. Katniss Everdeen."

* * *

**003D**

Fire play from the lit iron stove projected shadows upon the walls, much like a dance reaching up into the rafters. The early summer wind blew through the white curtains, blowing Katniss' hair into her face. The tickling of strands against her face, made her want to sneeze as she rubbed her nose.

Opening her gray eyes she looked to the open window from her position on the floor. She had given the bed to Peeta who had needed it while he healed, and after years of having to sleep on floors while being in the farm, she had come accustomed to the firm surface.

However, the opened windows during the night was something different, she had to adjust to. One of the few times he had actually moved from his spot on the bed, other than showering and going to restroom, he had walked over to the window to open it up, complaining he had no idea how someone was able to breathe in the cramped cabin.

Katniss had argued how it was interesting how a cabin which had twelve feet ceilings could be cramped. He merely looked her way, giving a sideways glance as he crawled back onto the bed. The argument about the windows was fleeting as was most conversation with him, the silence was choking her, and she needed a release.

Their routine was simple and daunting, as she would wake up at dawn from her place on the floor, set out to hunt. Leaving him in the same place he had been the night before, never moving at all. She was pleased when he finally started to bathe, the grease in his hair darkens his blonde tresses, and his skin had started to blemish after a few days.

It had taken some coaxing and the threat of scrubbing him down herself before he conceited to do it himself. Every day she would volunteer to heat him up some water, but he insisted that cold water from the well was all he needed. He would barley looked her way and when he did he looked disgusted, utterly uncomfortable to be near her.

Most days he would stare at the wall never moving, while she spent most of her time in the woods gathering or lying in the meadow beside the lake. And when she returned he was as always still sitting in the damn bed. Katniss turned her head to the window; she could see the moon still in the sky from her vantage point.

She guessed that it was still at least an hour till dawn; however she doubted she would be able to fall back asleep so she decided to begin her day early. Before she could sit up, she heard the faint sound of what seemed to be crying. She turned her head to where Peeta would be lying; she could see his body moving slightly as he tried to cover his mouth, the sobs escaping despite his effort.

She wanted to comfort him, but he was more than clear he didn't want her consoling. She laid there for an hour waiting for him to fall asleep, so she could retrieve her clothing from the wardrobe and begin her tedious day of hunting and avoiding Peeta.

After an hour of running through her feelings of the man six feet from her, she could hear his breathing deepen signaling he had finally fallen asleep. After she had dressed and retrieved her bow, she stood next to the bed studying his face. He looked almost peaceful; his leg had finally healed after about a week, as the color flooded back to his skin.

She often found herself watching him as he slept, the hardened look of blue eyes not present, his left hand would lie on his broad chest as he breathed in and out. It confused her how much she wanted to feel close to him, something about him always tugged at her. She sighed walking through the door to hunt and gather the next couple of days meals, however with how little Peeta usually ate, a light load went farther than it should with two almost adults eating.

The hunt went better than she expected with how much little sleep she was able to acquire the night before. A couple of grooselings had fell victim to her aim, and she thanked the birds for their sacrifice. It was midday as she lay on the grass, her dark hair fanned around her like a pair of wings.

She wished she could fly away from her life, living in the trees and feeling the wind around her like a cocoon. She was dreading what had to be done, when she went back to the cabin. She sighed sitting up, rebraiding her thick hair, picking leaves from the tresses. When she was through she stood up walking over to her structure she made from branches where the birds lied.

She had a few miles to construct a reasonable argument, which would surely help him to see the pointlessness of his behavior. She looked up into the sky, thanking her sister Prim for gracing her with the patience to deal with the boy. The trek was bright and calming as she made it to the cabin. She let go of the rope, leaving her kill at the back door, pushing it open. She squared her shoulders as she shut the door making her way to where he would be in the bed.

Sure enough he was still in the spot where she had left him, although now he was sitting up and awake. Katniss walked over to his side, opening her mouth ready to communicate her feelings in an understanding practical manner. Peeta looked away from the wall to her, rolling his eyes.

"Back already? You couldn't have stayed away longer."

Katniss closed her mouth in shock; her shoulders fell a bit, while he turned back to the wall. Fury washed up through her body, she could physically feel her anger surging through her entire being. Logic had just flown out the window, and Katniss Everdeen was a raging instrument of fire.

She rushed over to the side of the bed he was facing, with strength surged by pure fury she tipped the mattress over. Peeta's sturdy body went flying to floor, meeting it with a thud. He started to yell obscenities at her, when she ran to the other side, stopping in front of him. Peeta's head was still against the floor when she started in on him.

"Do you think you're the only person to ever lose someone? To watch them die bloody and senseless in front of you? You're not damn it!"

Peeta seethed with anger from his spot on the floor, "What do you know of any of it?"

"More than a spoiled, selfish, soft artist like you could ever imagine!"

Peeta held his tongue, kicking away from her to scoot his body further from her, she bent down kneeling, "You're father was a great man who sacrificed his life for helping those who were defenseless. He gave people the one thing; those in Capitol never want us to have. Gave us all hope, a feeling to hold onto, to believe there is more than what the Capitol bines us to."

Peeta sat up glaring at the dark haired girl, "I'm so happy for your kind, ecstatic my father wasted his life on people like you."

"You should be glad that he's not here to see how selfish you are. You know he talked about his youngest son, and how honorable he was, how he had this heart that knew no limit. Personally, I don't see it. I only see a selfish, angry waste of a person. I for one am happy, you're father doesn't have to watch you squander everything he taught and sacrificed for you. Because I doubt you could have a father like him and not learn anything. But here you are living every minute in the damn bed, angry about what you lost, how you're feeling. It's pitiful. Your father was a gentleman, you're not."

Katniss held his gaze, his body faltering, as she stood up to walk, "And don't forget those people you hate so much, who depended on the kindness of your father and brothers. I'm one of them, and I saved you from bleeding to death. Hell if I knew the kind of person you were, I would have just let you die."

Katniss turned on her heel, leaving the baffled boy on the floor. She didn't look back as she walked out onto the back porch passing her kill, and running to the meadow to bury her face into the wild flowers to cry. When she finally made it to the meadow, she threw her body down into the dirt, a smudge streaked across her olive skin.

Tears streamed down her face, she had held them as long as she could. Katniss was determined not to let him see her cry, he had taken too much as it was, she wasn't going to allow him the satisfaction of seeing her tears.

She rolled onto her back wondering how it was a boy she barely knew could incite such emotion from her, when guards who had battered her body were never able to earn one tear. Perhaps her confusion came from knowing; Peeta was just as broken as she was.

Katniss lied on her back staring into the sky which felt for hours, listening to the birds above her mimic her complicated string of notes. As much as she tried, she failed to get Peeta out of her head, and this infuriated her more than anything.

_What was so special about him? Why did he get under her skin so? _

Katniss sat up leaning on her elbows, looking out to the calm waters of the lake. Katniss sighed, aggravated with herself, for where she was headed now. She stood up walking to the clearing where she had found Peeta weeks earlier. Katniss had no idea why she was so adamant in going back to this particular place. The trek was longer than she assumed and the graying of the sky suggested there was a storm on the horizon.

When Katniss reached the cluster of trees, she leaned up against the one she had found him at. Leaves had fallen over the now dried pool of blood, erasing any trace of where he had sat awaiting death. Katniss kicked the tree, damning it for being so readily available to support him in his time of need. She and the tree, she had concluded, were naïve helping fools.

Katniss held her foot to the side wincing from trying to go toe to toe, to speak, with a hunk of lumber. As she was nursing her wounded pride, Katniss noticed a thin strap of material buried beneath a pile of leaves. She bent down curiously, lifting it from the dirt, leaves falling from it every which way. The bag was made out of canvas, and was stained with what looked like blood.

She was positive it belonged to Peeta; it must have been with him when he escaped the district. A part of her wanted to throw it to ground, happy to discard any part of him to the earth. However, she felt an obligation to return it back to him. She cursed the tree, the bag, and anything else in this world that tethered the boy to her.

As she turned back to the trail to take her home, she felt warm droplets of water fall onto her face. The earth swept dirt round her body, and soon she was sticking to pathways of mud. She clinged to the bag, its objects inside weighed down her petite form, as the water plastered her clothing to her skin.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally reached the back porch of the cabin. Under the protection of the awning, Katniss threw off her muddy boots, depositing his bag next to them. She pushed the door open walking through, half expecting to find the mattress still on the floor; however it was back in its proper place. Katniss stopped in her tracks noticing the bed had been made and for once Peeta wasn't in his usually position.

Katniss wondered if he had decided to leave after their fight, an empty feeling inside her chest. She surveyed the room, walking into each part of the house. It appeared he had left after all, and this troubled her more than she would have like. Katniss walked to the front window which was still open from before, closing it gently, careful not to catch the curtains.

As the thunder and lightning raged on outside, Katniss caught a glimpse of something up the hill leading down to the cabin. She started to reach for her bow, when after another flash of light she recognized the outline of Peeta's body. He was running up and down the hill, to be precise he was falling to the ground more than he was staying upright.

Bare feet padded along the earth, the rain and mud coating his thin t-shirt and flannel pajama pants. Katniss watched him for a few minutes before he fell back to the ground, this time staying down instead of pushing himself up. She swallowed as she rushed out of the cabin, anticipating the rage he would once again release onto her.

When she reached him, rain fell around the both of them, while she bent down to touch his shoulder. Her drenched fingers found their way into his shaggy hair instead. She expected him to flinch or the very least to assault her with obscenities.

Instead he lifted his head, his mud smeared face looking up toward her. Neither the mud or the stinging rain could hide the deep blue eyes that connected with her gray ones, neither boy or girl moved for the longest time lost in each other's gaze. Katniss' heart restricted by how broken, the boy beneath her looked.

"I can't get it back."

Peeta's voice slightly stunned her; it was a whisper barely audible above the sound of thunder. Katniss sat on the ground, her slip of a body sinking into the mud. Rain rushed down her dark hair, plastering it to her olive skin. Her thin tank top clung to her back as well as her chest, which she was sure the piece of clothing was giving nothing to the imagination.

A slight blush rushed up her cheeks, quickly disappearing as concern over took her embarrassment. Katniss brought his body into a sitting position, keeping him from tipping over. His shoulders slumped over, all the fight from before was gone, a shell of a boy was melding into the earth of mud, rain, and the remains of the dead.

Katniss placed her surprisingly warm hands onto either side of his face. She forced his eyes to once meet hers again, as she ran her thumbs over the bone beneath his eyes completing the socket there.

"What can't you get back?"

"How I was…how it was before."

"Is that why you're out here running in the rain?"

Peeta nodded, tears mixing with rain, "If I can be the same then I can get them all back. It can be the same."

"Are you talking about your family," Katniss choked back tears as she continued;"Peeta being able to run up and down a hill won't bring them back."

Peeta's voice cracks, as he is now hyperventilating, "..SOMETHING!"

"You can live. That is the real honor for those we have lost."

"I don't think I know how to live without them."

Katniss watched his face fall, she recognized this as a symbol of surrender, she knew she had to do something, so she did the only thing she could think of. Something incredibly foolish, a feat she would never be able to turn back from.

With clumsy movement, she pulled Peeta's face to her, their lips connecting. The pressure made her stomach lose its bottom, as her heart sped up. She opened her eyes seeing the shock on his face, before he too closed his own as she did. Pursed lips stayed still, Katniss wasn't sure how long she needed to keep the contact, debating if it had been long enough, as strong hands pulled her to his chest.

His solid chest made her nipples beneath her soaked tank ache, her whole body ached, Katniss wasn't aware of how this was supposed to feel, but in this moment she wasn't sure if she should run or just melt into his touch.

Katniss was lost in the sensation of his chest against her own, while Peeta balled up the back of her clothing into his hands that gripped to her back. Without warning Peeta's tongue pushed against her lips requesting entry, Katniss hesitated never being in this position before. She scolded herself for being so reckless, for losing her head when it came to this boy.

Slowly she opened her mouth allowing his tongue to mingle with her own. Katniss was shocked with how the sensation made her body tingle. She could taste the salt from his tears on her lips more so than before, as he explored her mouth earning a low groan to escape despite her efforts to keep it in. Her hands moved from his cheeks to his tangled mess of waves.

His hair was thick and heavy due to the rain, as she worked her fingers through it. Peeta's finger nails lightly scratched against her back finally finding the skin, beneath her clothing. Reason rushed back into her brain, trying to push all the sensations out which pulsed through her body to settle below her abdomen.

Katniss wasn't well versed in things of this nature but she was aware of what could come of kissing this boy, the way they were exploring each other's bodies, along with the way his body hummed against hers. She felt ashamed of taking advantage of him while he was in the steps of having a breakdown.

Her small hands pushed him back with enough force to send him onto his back. Shock rushed over his face, as his hands dug into the mud. Katniss sat frozen fromm her place, as he pushed himself off of the ground, walking over to her, reaching a hand to hers. Katniss looked into his face ready to see anger, when all she saw was a soft smile.

Katniss hesitated a second before allowing his sturdy body to lift her up. They both stood there in the rain, mud covering their shivering bodies. Peeta's eyes held her in place, the bones of his jaw flexing slightly. The rain ran into her parted lips mixing with the taste of him, her body shook, although she wasn't quite sure if it was from the storm or the boy standing two feet from her.

Katniss finally realized her hand was still clutched in his, gentle smooth hand met her calloused one. Peeta squeezed firmly, leading her to the cabin. She followed silently, glancing up to his face lighted up by the flashes of lightening.

When they reached the front door, Peeta allowed her to take the lead. She walked him to the middle of the room, only feet from the iron stove. He had already begun to uncontrollably shake, his toes curling into the floor boards. Katniss uncurled her fingers, as he held on tightly, rebounding her body back to his.

She looked into his blue eyes, they were more whole than before but Katniss couldn't help but see them pleading only a bit.

"I'm coming back. I just need to get some blankets and linens so we don't get pneumonia. Especially you, you are still technically healing."

Peeta nodded unfolding his fingers ever so slowly, allowing her to cross the room, to a cabinet where the linens were kept. Shaking herself, Katniss pulled out an array of blankets, towels, and a soft cotton sheet her mother would wrap her and her sister in when the nights became cold.

Water followed her steps creating smudged impressions. Peeta held out his arms giving her access to his body, as she removed the water and mud. Peeta kept his gaze on her as she tried her best to avert her eyes. Even with how little he had been eating the last few weeks, his body was still sturdy and muscular.

This was the closest she had ever been to someone of the opposite sex, other than the ones at the farm, but there you didn't have much time to worry about proximity when your life consisted of surviving. However here far away from any danger, with the only source of light from the fire, and the ongoing storm outside, Katniss' mind wandered to what it would like to fully explore his body. A rush of pink travelled up her ears, the knot in her stomach forming.

Katniss reached for the hem of his shirt, her fingers stopping when she realized that under the soaked fabric would be his broad muscular chest. She didn't know why she was acting like such a child, she had seen boy's chest before at the farm but even then they were skinny ribs jutting out from lack of eating. They weren't smooth from scars and easy to touch like his had been when she had first brought him to her home.

Peeta must have caught on to her hesitation when he placed his hands over hers, Katniss followed the action of his arms, extending their elbows, their arms raised in the space between them, bringing the shirt over his head. Her arms fell to his body wrapping around his neck, trapped by his hands. His shirt fell to the wooden boards with a thud. The water from his pants still ran down his feet, collecting around him.

The breath in Katniss' lungs felt heavy, locking eyes with Peeta, his smiled ever so lightly, where she assumed hers were wide as can be. Katniss pulled her hands from his, moving them closer to her own body. Peeta grabbed her right hand before it could make it to her side, gently laying it on his chest above his heart. The air went out of the room, and for once in her life she didn't have a plan on hand.

Peeta shivered from her touch, "Your hand's warm."

Peeta held his hand over hers, his voice hoarse, "You were right when you called me selfish. I was being selfish, and my father would be ashamed of me. I felt sorry for myself, but I never stopped to think of the danger you put yourself in when you brought me here. And for which I'm incredibly sorry. Thank you, Katniss Everdeen."

The end of Katniss' lip twitched up slightly, "You're welcome."

Peeta motioned his head to the window, "I'm sorry for what happened outside."

Katniss shook her head, "You're just grieving. I understand."

Peeta smiled, a bit of flush running up his neck, "Well, yes but I was talking about the kiss."

"Oh!"

Peeta laughed causing her hand to vibrate over his skin, "It was uncalled for, taking advantage of the woman who saved my life."

"I did kiss you first. So it isn't necessary for you to be such a gentleman and take all the credit."

"Sorry, Miss Everdeen it must be from my upbringing."

Katniss smiled this time, her body tingling, "I should hope so."

Peeta released her hand as he reached for the towel to wipe his face clean; Katniss stood still watching him intently as her shaking persisted. Peeta reached for the hem of her soaked tank top, the thin material showing her skin and breasts underneath. Peeta tried to advert his eyes from her body, but with the firelight shining off of the drops of water on her hair and skin, it made her shine.

He had never seen somebody so beautiful, inside and out, in his life. This must have been the feeling Jon used to describe when he thought of Julia…utterly content. His fingers knotted the fabric, bringing it over her head.

"Your shirts wet also."

Katniss pushed his hands down, her face red. Peeta held onto the fabric, as she leaned to the side picking up a quilt, holding it in front of her. Peeta lifted the tank top up her body as she followed the sight of bare skin, covering up her body, the quilt stopping above the curve of her breasts. Katniss wrapped the blanket around her body, kicking off the wet slacks she still had on.

Peeta's throat became restricted as she walked over to the wardrobe, holding onto the blanket, knotting it to her chest. His eyes followed her across the room, every movement of her hips burned into his brain.

_She was killing him, literally killing him. _

Katniss opened the wardrobe standing on her tip toes, the quilt falling down her back revealing mixture of olive skin and dark hair. She reached up for a set of clothing, grabbing it, and then turning around to toss it at his face. Peeta caught the pair of pants and shirt before they struck him. Katniss shifted from foot to foot from her place, still clutching the blanket around her. Peeta watched her shuffle feet, a red flush traveling up her arms and down her chest. Everything was starting to go hazy all at once. Katniss motioned to the far wall from her, as she looked anywhere but at his naked chest.

"There's some water heating on the stove, you can use it for a bath. You should wash the mud off and change."

Peeta swallowed, nodding thanks towards her as he walked over to the stove to fetch the water. He snuck a glance at her, she looked nervous and he was almost sure she had been checking him out the same way he had with her. At least he hoped she was feeling the way he was.

Peeta emerged from the other room where the basin used as a bathtub was kept, his blonde hair dripping with beads of water. She had given him another pair of sleeping pants and t-shirt; he assumed they had belonged to her father. The bed was pulled back for him, the sheets smooth and inviting. Katniss was now lying on the floor in her usual place, the thread bare blanket pulled up to her shoulders. Peeta looked to the bed and back to the girl wrapped inside the blanket.

"Will you sleep with me?"

Katniss slowly rolled over to face him, her face unreadable, Peeta held out his hand his palm opened waiting for her to take it.

"I don't want to be alone."

Katniss looked to the side, before peeling back the blanket, leaving it piled on the floor. She sat up, taking his hand mutely, her floor length night gown pooling around her feet. To Peeta's surprise she squeezed his hand, a small smile gracing her full pink lips, allowing him to lead her to the bed. Silently, she crawled into the bed pulling the sheet and blanket around her before turning her back to him. Peeta stood there a few minutes watching her, memorizing the rhythm of her breathing.

"Are you going to sleep or not?"

Peeta smiled at the slight annoyance in her voice, a small laugh coming from her side.

"Yes."

He slipped into the bed pulling the blanket over him, purposefully lying on the sheet, so as to not scare her off. He was surprised she said yes, especially after the way he had treated her for weeks, not to mention mauling her in the rain.

Peeta rested his head on the pillow, feeling more relaxed than he had for weeks. He almost felt at home with her beside him, he looked to her reaching his hand out only to float above her body, moving down the length of her. He wanted to love her and have her love him back, and this alone was the reason why he had to leave her.

* * *

Katniss awoke tangled in her long hair, the strands wrapping around her body. She stretched her toes, feeling for the blanket, but coming up empty. She slowly opened her eyes, the scent of pine falling upon her.

Her face fell a bit when she noticed; Peeta was no longer in the bed. She was more than shocked last night when had asked her to sleep with him, no assumptions just someone like her. A man like her, who didn't want to be alone if only for one night.

Katniss pushed down her night gown which had ridden up to her mid thigh. She scooted over to the side Peeta had been sleeping on and sat up stretching her arms above her head. She glanced over to the window falling on his profile. He appeared to be just staring off into the woods, not moving at all. She pushed herself off of the bed, walking to the door, to finally be on the porch to stand next to him. Peeta looked to her, his face serious; however the softness of his eyes from last night was still present.

"I'm going to leave,"Katniss looked away from him fearing the tears fighting to come through, "I can't burden you anymore. I need to at least try to make it on my own."

"You're not a burden. It's been nice not having to be alone anymore. Like the light has softened a bit. Even when you lied in bed all the time, and you hated me, it was still better than before."

"I want to be a man, my father can be proud of."

Katniss cleared her throat, a lump forming there," I don't want to be alone, if only for a little bit more. Will you stay with me?"

Peeta took her hand, still staring off into the sunlight, "Always."

* * *

**003E**

"I don't understand why anyone would pack all of this when running for their lives."

Katniss stood over the table, a curious brow rose, while perusing through the collection of thick books and vials of assorted paints. Her nimble fingers ran over the broad bindings, scratched leather holding in brittle yellowed pages. She had attempted to read a few pages, however the dialogue was in a strange language, where it appeared to be in English but the arrangement of the words were odd to her.

Her fingers traced the title page, the curve and loop of the lettering fascinating, _The Complete Works of William Shakespeare_, in bold gold lettering, withstanding the wear and tear effecting the rest of the book. Peeta walked over to the other side of the table, from his sitting position on the bed, to stand facing her.

His face was somber but soft. An expression Katniss had come to know and appreciate from the boy who stood feet from her. He stood still, his breathing steady, while he knotted his fists into the hem of his shirt.

It had been two weeks since she had found him on the porch, deciding to leave or not, her soft pleas for him to stay connecting them. They had fallen into a routine, where she would hunt; he would sit on the porch waiting for her, his mind drifting into a place Katniss was sure she wouldn't be able to touch. At nights she would lay her head in his lap, as he ran his fingers through her hair.

They had started only talking about simple things such as the weather or the trajectory she preferred to shoot from when trying to bag a buck. However, after a few nights the conversation turned to more serious matters, such as their families and how grieving could tear you a part without an anchor.

She had smiled when he admitted, with a quiet voice, she was his anchor. Katniss would fall asleep to his strong calming voice, as his gentle fingers in her dark strands sent shivers up and down her body.

Peeta's voice was calm, "I wasn't the one to pack it. Jon did."

Katniss' finger stilled, " Peeta I am such an ass. I didn't mean to-."

A small laugh escaped his lips," It's ok, Katniss. I can see how this would seem odd to you. Someone packing old books and paints instead of food or medicine."

Katniss tilted her head, "True they're not exactly what I would call a survival need."

Peeta looked up to her, picking up one of the books, handling it as if it was priceless , "These objects are just that. Don't you see, Katniss? They are what ensure our basic need to survive. Freedom of thought. The words in these books have survived time; they are as true now as they were hundreds of years ago. You see the Capitol can enslave us, take those we love away. They can even violate and take our very breath, but they can't stop our minds. And this is our greatest weapon. Our ability to think, it's our strength as a people."

Katniss' face fell, "You sound like my father. He would go on and on about keeping our pride safe, how not to let our minds become weak, to remain sharp."

"He sounds like a very intelligent man."

"He was. It got him killed, thinking such things."

Katniss drifted her eyes up to his, the pain in both sets, settling in the space between. Dark hair fell into her eyes, as she tilted her head to the side, breaking their connection. Peeta bent down setting the book down in the pile, patting the others beside it.

"I'll make you deal. You teach me everything your father taught you, such as hunting, tracking, knife handling, everything. And I will teach you why these words mean so much."

Katniss kept her gaze down, "How do you know I can handle a knife?"

A deep laugh filled the room, Peeta's eyes full, "Are you kidding me? I think I now have a small scar from the last time you held a knife to my throat. Something about not being afraid to kill me if you had to."

Katniss' eyes widen in concern, examining his throat, "Sorry about injuring you. I know how fragile painters can be, " Katniss' brow rose once again, "How is it you even remember such things?"

"Are you serious? I would never forget a beautiful woman sitting on top of me, even if she was going to end me, "a sly smile perked up his lips, "in more ways than one."

The familiar red blush rose up her chest, settling at her cheeks, her dark eyes shining, as she picked up a vile of paint, hurling it at his chest.

"Jerk!"

* * *

Katniss' chest melded into his back, she could feel their heart beats line up with each other. It was difficult not to lose herself in the sensations, moving through her body by having him so close. Her petite arms strained to reach his hands, due to the width of his broad shoulders.

She would never admit it to Peeta, but she liked the way her body fit into his. It reminded her of how Lily Everdeen's slight frame could disappear into her husband's sturdy frame. It struck Katniss as odd, or just simply fate, how this one boy reminded her of her father more every day.

Perhaps it was James Everdeen's; way of ensuring his daughter would no longer be lonely, sending this young man to her. Peeta felt like a mixture of the past and the future for Katniss, something she was determined to hold onto for as long as she could. She laughed as her petite hands folded over his larger ones, which fumbled with the bow and arrow.

"Perhaps, I'm not meant to be a hunter. I seemed to be more comfortable with the tracking."

Katniss smiled, "You weren't that bad."

Peeta turned his head slightly, trying to catch her eye," Please woman! I was fantastic."

Katniss scoffed, "Say's the boy who is struggling to hold a piece of wood and feathers to a string."

Peeta hunched his back, making her step back a bit, her laughter filling the woods, as her footing faltered, "Those are fighting words, Miss Everdeen."

Katniss regained her position at his back," Just think of it as in the same respect as handling a woman. You have to be gentle but steady, make your presence known. I'm sure even an entitled artist as yourself has had a few girls in your time."

Peeta's fumbling with the bow and arrow went still, his breathing deepening, "Actually I-I- haven't," he stuttered out.

Katniss hid her face, in his back, his scent filling her head, making it dizzy. The idea of him being as inexperienced as her made her feel closer to him. Although she wouldn't have guessed it, the way he had kissed her a couple of weeks ago. Ever since then she found it difficult to stop watching every movement of his, the sight of his naked chest imprinted in her brain.

She wasn't sure how much longer she could be so close to him, and not lose herself in him fully. Peeta turned around, her face leaving his muscular back, the bow and arrow lying at his side, still griped in his hand. She was still embarrassed by referring anything about his past sexual experiences, or lack thereof, a flush creeping into her hair line.

The wind picked up, wrapping her free hair around her body, hopefully shielding her face. It ceased to amaze her, how this one boy could make her feel like a foolish schoolgirl. Katniss kept her head down, studying the golden leaves landing on the toes of her boots.

Peeta reached out, taking hold of the hair, now hiding her face; he dropped the bow and arrow to the ground, placing his other hand below her jaw. Raising her face up, for her eyes to meet his, Katniss' legs went weak, having his hands on her face, his scent yet again making her go loopy.

His complex blue eyes were soft, but something else which lied there was almost unreadable for Katniss. She wanted to pull him down towards her, kiss him once again, and become lost in his touches and body. She wanted to lose herself in him, wanted his hands to claim her as their own.

Katniss was starting to feel things that both frightened and excited her. The air between them was raw, and she could hear nothing but his breathing, and the soft touches of his hands on her skin. Peeta was the first to step back, his hands pushing into the pockets of his jeans.

"I think it's safe to say, hunting isn't my thing."

Katniss shook her head trying to clear it, "Maybe. So is it my turn to be taught something?"

Peeta reached down for the discarded bow and arrow, grasping it, he stood up holding his free hand to her, waiting for her to take it.

"Sure."

* * *

Katniss slammed the book down, the sound echoing through the dark cabin, with the only light source being the candle sitting in the middle of the table.

"It makes no sense!"

Peeta leaned in next to her, opening the book, his steady fingers turning to the previous page, "Of course it does."

Katniss huffed, her breath moving the pages up slightly, "Maybe to someone who's half Capitol born, but not to some idiot like me."

"Katniss you should understand this more than anyone from the Capitol. Everything you've been through, has led to one decision after another. In most respects you're a lot like Hamlet."

Katniss stuffed her hands in her lap, an eye brow rising," How so?"

"Umm…,"Peeta flipped through the pages, his arm pressed up against hers, "Here it is, listen to this. _To be, or not to be, that is the question__. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer. The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them? To die, to sleep."_

"I'm still lost."

"He's trying to decide if he should fight against injustice or to simply live his life. For Hamlet he's going through a crisis of faith. He's lost everything, which defined him as a person, and he must decide where to go from there."

"I can understand feeling the same way, like when Prim died. I sat in the girl's barracks holding her body in my lap for two days. A pox had made its way through the farm; the guards had cured the ones Elective Snow saw worthy. A thirteen year old girl who worked in the laundry, and had been the daughter of a criminal wasn't seen important to their standards. When they finally came for her body, I tried to hold on to her. One the guards had to pull me off, so they could take her little body and throw it into the mass grave they had dug. It was then I started to plan my escape. I no longer had anything to lose. I guess like, Hamlet."

Peeta ran his fingers through her hair, wiping the tears from her cheeks," You never talked about Prim before, or really anything about your family. Thank you for telling me."

"I don't know why I did."

Peeta looked over face, a small smile gracing his," You made a decision."

"So maybe all this literature crap isn't so bad, but I still think the way Hamlet crawled on top of his mother was icky."

Peeta laughed, still smoothing his fingers over her face," Icky? Is this a technical term?"

"You tell me, you're the one who's into all these words."

"Then yes it's definitely icky."

Katniss laughed the firelight making her eyes glow. Something in Peeta constricted, similar to how he felt earlier in the woods when she had assumed about his sexual experiences. He wanted to kiss her then, however now after she had confided in him, he wanted to give her a piece of himself he kept hidden.

He knew how vulnerable it was for her to tell him about her sister, and he wanted to show her the same kind of trust. He wanted to be close to her, give her everything he had, because in this moment he realized he was in love with the girl named Katniss Everdeen.

* * *

Peeta stood in the water, the droplets of water hitting his chest, as Katniss splashed a few feet from him. He had made it out enough, just so where the water line stopped at his waist. He could hear her teasing him as she floated on her back, about five feet from where he dug his feet into the soil of the lake floor.

The biggest body of water Peeta, had ever been in was the bath tub at home. He wasn't afraid to admit to himself, by being surrounded by this much water, scared the hell out of him. However he enjoyed watching Katniss easily maneuver her body, through the water like silk. Her dark hair spread around her face like a curtain.

From his position he could see her profile, a wide smile on her face. Her dark green tank top rose up, to show the bare skin of her stomach, only to stop below her breasts. Peeta had regretted his idea for her to teach him something, when she suggested he should know how to swim. Although now watching her being so serene, the sunlight shining off of the water around her, setting her body in a glow, he swallowed the saliva he wasn't aware of stuck in his throat. Peeta had been with Katniss for nearly a month, and the presence of her was slowly driving him crazy.

It was excruciating for him to not reach his hands to her body, and explore every curve, make her feel every sensation. Peeta was broke from his reverie, when the sound of splashing startled him. Katniss' dark hair followed her, as she swam over to where Peeta stood.

"You know, you have to come out further if you want to learn how to swim."

"I never said anything about learning to swim. Maybe I just wanted to see you half clothed."

Katniss blushed repositioning her underwear, the only item of clothing, other than her tank top, she had on. Katniss rushed her hand against the ripple of water, sending a wave to Peeta's bare chest.

"I'm not the only one half naked."

"Have you heard me complain?"

Katniss pushed him back slightly, as Peeta trapped her hand to his chest. Katniss tensed under his grip, her eyes widening. Peeta released her hand, giving her the ability to swim back a few inches. The water running down her face reminded him of the night she found him running in the storm, completely broken.

He wanted to grab her hips, forcing them to his, as he ran his hands up and down her body, gently scraping his nails down the flesh of her stomach. However, Peeta knew he couldn't be the one to make the first move, he knew how close she was to running. He looked up to see her staring at him, her eyes dark, and distant.

He needed to ask her something and he knew it would risk all of the progress they had made.

"Why do you pull away like you just did?"

"Because of you."

"What?"

Katniss busied her hands in the water, her legs kicking out," You scare me sometimes, the way you make me feel."

Peeta stepped towards her slowly, not wanting to run the chance of frightening her even more. Katniss slowed her movements, her legs still slowly kicking out of the water. Peeta reached for her legs bringing them down, as she leveled above the water. He moved his hands up her legs, his finger tips traveling over hips, stopping for a few seconds to play with the material there, before making their way up her ribs to rest below her arm pits.

Her skin beneath his hands was warm, and Peeta could feel the tremors ride up and down her body. He locked his light colored eyes onto her dark ones, searching them for any hesitation.

"How do I make you feel?"

Katniss kept silent, her eyes moving over his face, Peeta could feel her body relax, the water helping to hold her up. Peeta slowly inched his thumbs over to her chest, gently tracing the outline of the inside curve of her small breasts. Katniss shuddered at the light touch, her mouth opening slightly, Peeta inched closer to her body, intensifying the pressure on her skin.

All of a sudden Katniss pushed him away with more force than he was ready to defend, sending him into the water deeper, his head going under. Peeta breathed in a full mouth of water; he fought his way above water, coughing as he doubled over. He moved his hand over his face to clear his face of any excess water. He searched the lake for her to finally see her running out of the meadow into the cluster of trees, her pants and boots clutched in her hands. Peeta could have drowned himself right there, for being such a stupid, stupid man.

* * *

By the time, Peeta had made it back to the cabin; Katniss was already lying on the floor, her blanket pulled up to her neck. Peeta's embarrassment was too much for him to handle, he questioned his presence next to her at all. He prided himself in being a gentleman, and he had instead let his hormones overtake him, and like most of the people in her life, take advantage of her.

Peeta realized he was nothing more than the despicable people from the Capitol who happily took their pound of flesh. He walked over to the end of the bed where he had kept his sleeping clothes. He picked up the set of clothing, making his way over to the room they used as makeshift bathroom. Peeta closed the door behind him, careful not to slam it.

He didn't want to upset her even more than he already had. Peeta stripped off his wet clothing, his pants and boxers shorts hitting the floor with a wet thud. He kicked them aside, walking over to the full length mirror against the wall.

He was average height he supposed, perhaps a bit taller than some, and his light complexion left some to be desired, at least in his opinion. His coloring was nothing close to the beauty of Katniss' olive hue, blending into dark eyes and hair.

Peeta ran his hand through his blonde hair; it had lightened due to all the sunlight he had gotten from being outside with Katniss. He wasn't sure but he thought he was starting to get a light tan also, surprised it hadn't gone automatically to a burn. Peeta Mellark wasn't anything special, and certainly wasn't worthy of a woman of the caliber of Katniss, Everdeen.

Peeta sighed, deciding he would leave first thing in the morning, he didn't want to cause her anymore heart ache. He stepped away from the mirror, to retrieve the clothing, pulling each item onto his partially still damp body. Peeta ran a hand through his hair once again, droplets of water falling onto the back and front of his shirt.

He walked out of the room, walking directly to the bed, not chancing a glance at the petite girl on the floor. He knew her back would be to him, and it would only be torture for him to watch her lying so close but so far away. It seemed to be his lot in life, to gain something finally to only lose it soon after.

Peeta sat on the bed, swinging his legs underneath the sheet and blanket; he kept his back to the headboard, positive he wouldn't be able to sleep if he wanted to. He let his mind wander to every second he had spent with Katniss, regretting the time he had treated her badly.

It was time he had wasted, and now it was gone. He sighed closing his eyes, she had been sent to him by the spirits, an angel to save him from himself and the violence of the world. The creaking of the floor boards startled him, causing his eyes to open, settling on the sight of Katniss walking over to him. The only light source being from the few candles around the room, he strained his eyes to see if she was holding a knife.

When he was sure her hands were empty he felt a sense of relief. He caught himself watching the curve of her hips, as she seemed to glide over to him. The floor length gown she always wore, trailing behind her. Her dark hair fell on both sides of her face, framing it in such a way it made Peeta's pulse race. For what felt like an eternity, she finally reached the side of the bed, her body lining up with his lap.

He opened his mouth to speak, as she pulled back the sheet and blanket, she swung her right leg over his own legs. Peeta watched her move, the end of the gown reaching his knees. She settled onto his lap, her knees pushing into the mattress, his hands were still. Peeta's mouth was still opened as he started to speak, her hand coming up to his mouth, placing her delicate fingers to his lips.

Peeta watched as she slowly moved her hands to her chest, gently unbuttoning the silver buttons lined up and down the front of her gown. He watched as she made her way down to the last one located at her belly button. Katniss gathered up her hair, pushing it behind her, allowing Peeta a clear view of her chest.

Peeta was shocked to say the least, he knew he had to say something to her, stop her, but the look in her eyes stopped him. He followed her hands as they pulled the sleeves of her gown down her arms, exposing her breasts. Taut olive skin came into his view; his eyes roamed her chest, her small delicate breasts melding into her petite frame.

Peeta's hands twitched beside him, a heat rose up his face, his breathing deepening. Katniss reached for both his hands, each cradling in her smaller ones, as she brought his to her chest, placing each one on her chest. She exhaled slowly, locking eyes with him, Peeta kept his hands still, aching to feel her whole body.

Katniss hands remained on top of his, as she moved his hands in a circular motion, massaging her breasts with his hands. Peeta watched as she nodded, running her hands through his hair.

With the absence of her hands, Peeta continued to massage her breasts, the skin soft, and warm. He traced rosy nipples with his thumb, gently working over the raised skin. Katniss let out a quiet moan, as she closed her eyes, tightening her hands in his hair. Peeta's body tingled, a heat pulsating at his groan, he tried to hold his composure, but having his hands on her body after dreaming about it for so long was wearing down his resolve.

He moved his hands from her breasts, lightly scratching his fingers down to her waist, pushing her gown further down, until it was trapped above her bottom. Peeta placed his hands on her hips, his fingers almost touching at her back; he almost forgot how petite she actually was. With a swift movement, Peeta pulled her body to him, as he sat up fully, meeting her half way.

He ducked his head down to take one of her breasts in his mouth, his tongue moving around the nipple, as he sucked lightly at the flesh there, his other hand continuing to massage the other breast. Katniss groaned, moving her fingers to his neck to scrap the skin there, her breathing becoming rapid.

Peeta's muscles contracted, the feel of her skin in his mouth beneath his hand was more than he could handle. He wouldn't be surprised if his groan became hard, a sign of his arousal. Peeta removed his mouth from her body, moving his hands up to her hair, knotting his fingers there. Peeta held her head steady, her naked chest rising quickly, he could see she was feeling what he was, or the very least the arousal of having their bodies so close.

Peeta pulled her face to his, pressing his lips to hers, using his tongue to have access to her mouth. As with their first kiss, Peeta's tongue pushed towards her massaging it deeply, a deep long sigh escaping her lips. Katniss moved her hands down to his chest, scraping her nails down the t-shirt until finding their way to the hem.

Katniss slipped her hands under the shirt, spreading her fingers against his muscular chest. Peeta kissed her deeply, their kisses lightly bruising the others mouth. Both their tongues became frantic the other fighting for dominance. What started out as slow and gentle was becoming frenzied, and Peeta was positive she could feel his arousal by now.

Her tiny hands gripped the material of his shirt bringing it up halfway, her hands going to the hem, removing the material, their mouths absent from each others for only a second before finding the connection once again. Katniss threw the shirt to the floor, her hands returning to his chest, as Peeta moved one hand to the small of her back, the other to the back of her head.

He pushed her back, his body following hers, as he laid her down below him, his body settling into hers. He positioned himself as to not crush her delicate frame with his sturdier one. Her kisses became more impatience, moving her hands around his ribs, gently scraping her nails there, Peeta tensed, gently laughing into her mouth. Peeta pulled his lips from hers, studying her face, his chest was still crushed to hers, as he felt her heartbeat drum against his. Her hair was fanned around them, her olive skin shining against the white sheets, the blanket pushed to the foot of the bed.

Peeta's manhood rubbed against her core, he could feel the wetness through the barriers of their clothing. He knew they had a decision to make, either to proceed or to stop at this very second. Peeta wanted to feel her fully, but if she wasn't ready, than he would be happy with just being able to have her this much. Katniss moved her hips up; friction between them caused a deep groan to come from his lips. Peeta moved his hand from her back and head, placing his hands on either side of her face.

"We don't have to go further."

"I want to."

"Katniss if we do, there's no turning back."

Katniss moved her hands to his face, her fingers working their way down his forehead, to trace the bridge of his nose, working to his mouth, to stop at his jaw.

"I don't want to go back."

Peeta shook his head, "Me neither."

Peeta kissed her gently, as he raised his body to pull her gown down her legs, as she kicked it off, making the fragile fabric fall to the floor. He traced the length of her legs; his fingers gentle barely touching, as he sent shivers up her body, a smile gracing her lips. Peeta slid his fingers in the material of her panties, hooking his fingers the elastic, pulling them down over her bottom, inching his body down hers as he pulled the item of clothing from her body, discarding the panties to the floor.

Peeta sat up admiring her naked body, her skin smooth even with the amount of scars marring her body. He had never seen anything so beautiful, and he marveled at the idea of being able to soak up all her beauty. Katniss' olive skin blushed under his eyes, she flinched slightly, his gaze making her squirm. Peeta reached for the waist line of his pants pulling them down his body, until throwing the pants to the side to join his t-shirt and her apparel.

Katniss reached her hands out in front of her, signaling for him to join her; he took her hands, settling against her. His chest pressed against hers, he could feel that her nipples had hardened, and her body was already perspirating. Peeta still held her hands, placing them above her head, he rubbed his nose against hers, Katniss giggled when his long eyelashes tickled her face. Peeta kissed her deeply, before moving his face up a few inches to look into her dark eyes.

"Are you sure?"

"I want to be with you, Peeta."

Peeta fought back a few tears, not wanting to falter in his manhood, "I want to give you everything."

Katniss closed the gap between them, locking her lips to his. She scooted her body down a few inches, spreading her legs, to wrap them around him, her legs settling above his butt. Peeta laid his forehead against hers, holding eye contact; he wanted to watch her closely in case she decided not to go any further.

He positioned his hips to match hers, their pelvis' connecting. He slid in slowly, her walls so tight, the pressure almost painful for him, although the warmth of her threatened to swallow him whole. Katniss' body tensed, as she constricted around him. Her heat and wetness making him dizzy, as she broke his hold on her hands to travel to his back, massaging the muscles there.

Peeta knew he was close to the place of resistance, as her body enveloped him. He looked into her eyes, but she had closed them anticipating what was to come next.

"Katniss open your eyes," Katniss slowly opened her eyes, the dark pools making Peeta's breath catch, "Are you ready?"

Katniss nodded, keeping her eyes open, locking with his. Peeta bore down, his hips grinding into hers, as he broke through the barrier, the resistance not as apparent as before. A few tears fell down her face, her eyes shut tight. Peeta shook his head, starting to pull away from her; he slowly started to slip out of her.

"Ok. We're done."

Katniss moved her hands up to his shoulders, pulling him back down to her, causing him to sink back into her fully.

"No, don't."

"Katniss, I'm not going to hurt you."

Katniss opened her eyes, "The worst is over right? I just want to be with you. Don't pull away now."

Peeta knew she was talking about more than something physical, and it didn't help his anxiety at all. He kissed her on the lips, pushing into her further, he settled into her, running his hands through her hair. He wanted to tell her he loved her in the moment; however he knew it would be too soon, although he wasn't sure if it was Katniss or himself who wasn't ready for such a declaration.

Katniss bucked her hips, signaling for him to move inside her. His rhythm began slow, trying to match her own. Their bodies soon began to race, the motion becoming intense and almost frantic, as Peeta began to kiss her, bruising her soft mouth. He thrusted into her, moans filling the space around him.

The way she wound around him, made him feel at home, the way she was trusting him, made him feel safe. Sweat poured from their bodies, both glistening in the friction of each other. Peeta could feel it rising inside his body quickly, his body spasming as he released into her body. He had wanted to give her all of him, and in this moment he had.

She ran her fingers over his face, as he kept moving inside of her waiting for her own release. He could feel it bubbling inside of her as she tightened even more around him. Her muscles tightened, as he rode the wave with her, soon collapsing into each other.

Katniss giggled, as Peeta joined her smoothing her delicate features of any sweat. Peeta's laughter shook her chest.

"Was I really bad enough for you to laugh afterwards?"

Katniss laughed harder, "The worst!"

Peeta jabbed her in the ribs, exiting her core as he rolled off her body, lying on his own back. They laid there for the longest time, before Peeta crawled over her to make his way to the linen closet. He grabbed a few towels, walking over to the bed sitting on the edge, cleaning her up between her legs. He kept his eyes downward, as he moved the cotton over her sensitive body.

"It'll be sore for a while. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I'm the one who crawled on top of you."

"Yes, but I continued it."

Katniss sat up, moving to the front of the bed, pulling Peeta to her, as he placed the towel on the floor.

"Peeta why are you always trying to apologize?"

"I just-."

"I'm not going to break."

"I know. I just don't want you to regret anything you see from me."

"As, long as I can keep looking, I promise I won't be."

Peeta smiled softly, as he pulled her to him, she settled into his chest, as he pulled the sheet around them. Peeta stretched his arm to reach the balled blanket, haphazardly spreading it around their naked bodies.

Peeta cleared his throat, "You know you never told me how I make you feel."

Katniss moved beside him, her hair tickling his skin," Hope. You make me feel hopeful."

They laid there for the longest time, before Peeta was positive, she had finally fallen asleep. He looked down to see her breathing deeply, her arm wrapped around his side. Peeta kissed her forehead, running his fingers over her back. He sighed, knowing he had to at least say it once out loud, thankful she was asleep and would be unaware of it.

"I love you, Miss Katniss Everdeen."

* * *

**003F**

The cool summer breeze flowed into the room, surrounding his bare skin, prickling his light complexion. Light shined through the open window, which allowed the outside world to distribute its sensations, throughout the cabin. Peeta laid on his stomach, stretching his arms out, his hands searching for a familiar body, when all he received was a hand full of sheets.

He opened his eyes searching for her when he smoothed out her place of the bed, wondering if he could feel her in the vacant spot. Peeta sighed, assuming she had already left for her daily hunt, as he rolled onto his back, sitting up. The sheet fell to his lap, the rest of his body naked, and exposed. He forced his hands into his tangled blonde hair, scratching his scalp, as he hopelessly worked through the knotted hair.

He looked to the far side of the room, when he nearly fell off the side of the bed from shock. He could see the outline of dark hair, her back hunched over, as if she was concentrating on something. Peeta reached down picking up his discarded pants from the night before, pushing the sheet from his lap, pulling on the soft material of the pajama bottoms.

He stood from the bed, walking over to where she was, seated on the floor, the table blocking his view from the bed. He made his way to stand behind her, pictures, letters, and old trinkets were spread out before her. Boxes were stacked up beside her, the ones perched on the top threatening to topple onto her.

Katniss traced the faces of the photographs with her fingertips, the action so delicate; she barely felt the texture of the paper beneath the pads of her fingers. Finally she became aware of Peeta behind her, as she turned her head up to him, her face expressionless, other than a faint smile. She turned her attention back to the mementos in front of her

. Her legs had fallen asleep an hour ago, and the cool breeze coming from the window caused the hair on her legs to stand up, prickling her bare legs. She had awoken in the middle of the night, to find herself wrapped in Peeta's arms, her body serenely relaxed other than the slight throbbing between her legs. She worked her legs around his, tangling her ankles with his. Katniss pulled her upper body back a bit to look into his face; she reached up moving her fingers over the structure of bones.

She couldn't help but smile of the memory of being beneath him, as her body melded into his. He had been so gentle, while still making her body hum. He had caught here by surprise and not only by the way he had come into her life but by the way he worked himself into her heart. Had brought up emotions she thought had died with her family, feelings she was frightened to feel again.

She had laid there for a couple of hours, when she finally broke her hold on his body, slipping from under the cotton sheet.

Katniss reached down, picking up her panties along with the t-shirt he had been wearing, pulling each one on. The shirt which fell below his waist, reached mid way on her thighs, her frame being so much more petite than his. She walked over to the window opening it halfway, the t-shirt raising up to where her panties stopped.

Her skin was still warm from having him so close to her, and she knew how the open window helped him sleep. Katniss turned around her back leaning against the window seal, watching him breathe in deeply. His muscular legs kicked out of the sheet, his back muscles retracting to the movement.

She marveled at how beautiful he was, not just physically although his muscular body was nothing to scoff at, but the way his mind worked. Peeta was for all definitions an idealist, a man who saw what the world could be, believing in the strength of promise.

When he spoke, it was as if she was a small child again listening to her father talk of their legacy, and the great destiny his fearless Katniss would come to know. Katniss was falling in love with the boy asleep, a few feet from her, and she desperately wanted to know how to stop it.

She gathered up her tangled hair, which was far worse than usual, due to the sweat and friction forced upon it earlier in the night. She twisted it into a knot, finally tucking the long ends into the t-shirt, to fall down her back. Katniss rushed to the wardrobe where she kept her parent's things, she pulled open the doors, stopping both from slamming into the sides.

She rose up on her toes, taking hold of each box, one after another, when finally a dozen stacked boxes sat next to her. Katniss bent over pushing the load against the far wall, she sat down, pulling the lid off one of the yellowed cardboard boxes, reaching her hand in to recover a part of her past.

She had been there sitting in the far corner of the room rummaging through the items of the boxes ever since. Peeta sat down behind her, his legs spreading out beside each side of her, he leaned his chin on her shoulder, watching her fingers trace the photo. He pressed his lips to her temple, moving his hands to her hair to run his fingers through the strands.

His lips spoke against her temple," What are you doing?"

"I couldn't sleep."

Peeta let out a small laugh," So you decided to drag a load of boxes out?"

"This is all I have left of my family. I don't know why I started to look through them."

Peeta worked his fingers through her hair, finally moving to her back rubbing it gently," Sometimes you have to open yourself up to remember, "Peeta placed his hand over hers, "Is this them?"

Katniss nodded, the hair Peeta had freed fell over her chest, "Yes. My parents James and Lily, and my little sister Prim, she was three here."

Peeta studied the picture, the corners were worn and faded, however the faces seemed to shine off of the paper. It was interesting to Peeta how much Katniss looked like her father, his dark eyes, and hair now belonged to her. Katniss, who couldn't be more than five, clung to her father's back, her dark hair in two braids, her plaid dress blowing in the wind.

A petite woman with light blonde hair and bright eyes smiled as she held a smaller version of herself. This was Katniss' family, the people who made her into what she was now. Into the woman he wanted to love for the rest of his life.

Peeta cleared his throat, "What are in all of the rest of the boxes?"

Katniss shook her head, "I don't know. I stopped looking when I found the pictures."

Peeta watched her with intent, his own body tensing at the reminder of losing family. He had to lose himself into something else, right away. He knew she was close to losing herself in her own grief, Peeta could acknowledge, each of them could be the escape for the other.

Peeta buried his face into her hair, breathing her scent in," I actually have been trying to find something. I specifically remember allowing you to take my t-shirt off of my body last night, and now I can't find it."

Katniss smiled, laying the photo down to the floor with the rest," Oh, really?"

"Yes. Have you by any chance seen it?"

Katniss played with the hem of the shirt," Maybe."

She turned around, her body inches from him, their foreheads now touching. Peeta ran his hands up and down her sides, the t-shirt wrinkling with his movements. Katniss kissed him softly, pulling away slightly to nip at his bottom lip.

Peeta placed his hands on her hips, his fingers hitching in the elastic of her panties. Katniss shivered, as she mimicked his movements by hooking her own fingers into the waist line of his pants. She settled on her knees in front of him, sliding her fingers side to side in the elastic. He watched her tease him, enjoying the glint in her eyes.

"Come to think of it I have seen your shirt."

Katniss removed her fingers from his pants to move her hands to the hem of the shirt, sliding it up her body slowly, revealing the tight skin of her stomach, followed by her breasts, to finally be tossed beside her.

Peeta groaned," You're killing me woman."

Katniss tilted her head to one side, smiling, the only piece of clothing on her petite frame being her white cotton panties. Peeta dug his fingers deeper in the fabric, quickly bringing her to his lap. Her bare chest crushed into his, her pulse racing, as Peeta scratched at the skin below her hips.

She closed her eyes, becoming lost in his touches, wanting to lose herself in him completely. Katniss crashed her lips to his, nearly tipping the both of them over. Peeta opened his hands, spreading them behind her as he pressed his thumbs into her hip bones.

He planted his feet, to stand the both of them up as she wrapped her legs around him. Peeta's strong body rose the both of their bodies up, as Katniss slinked her arms around his neck. Peeta pressed his lips to her full ones, sucking at the bottom lip urgently. Katniss giggled, kissing him on the nose, she pulled back slightly, to look into his face.

"I was terrified you would drop us both."

"Naw. I used to wrestle a bit for school, and believe me it's much more difficult to hip toss a two hundred pound guy, than pick up a hundred pound naked girl."

"Hmm, so about these naked girls? Have you done much research carrying them around?"

Peeta walked them over to the bed, careful not slip on any of the stray photographs.

"Only the insanely sexy ones, who talk too much when I try to carry them across a room."

Katniss laughed kissing him, her lips pressing to his, as they crashed to the bed, Peeta's lower half hanging off of the bed. Katniss released her body from his, scooting up the bed, her body missing the warmth of his. Peeta used the sheets to pull himself up the mattress more, his knees settling beside her naked chest. He hunched over her, his chest horizontal to hers.

"Are you sure you're up to it again so soon?"

Katniss huffed, slamming her fists into the mattress, "Peeta, I swear to the spirits! If you do not get on top of me right now, I will hurt you!"

Peeta laughed, angling his body beside her," Yes, maam."

He swung his leg over hers, settling on top of her, careful not to crush her with his frame. Peeta positioned his elbows beside her ears, his hands on her face, as his thumbs ran over her eyebrows, traveling down to her lips.

"You're very sexy when you get all bossy and mean."

Katniss poked him in the ribs, "Is that right?"

Peeta kissed her, his mouth on hers, "Yes."

* * *

"What's this one from?"

Katniss traced the faint scar on Peeta's thigh, the raised inch of skin, a different texture underneath her fingers. Peeta looked to his thigh, a deep laugh escaping his throat.

"Markis received a knife from my father for his birthday when he was eleven, he swore he was an expert at throwing the stupid thing, and he swung it at a chair. I just so happened to be walking by at the time and it caught me in the leg. I was eight, and I nearly passed out."

Katniss laughed, her bare chest shaking from the short of breath, she placed her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. Peeta shook his head remembering how mortified his mother had been, seeing blood rush down his leg. To be honest she was more upset with the pair of slacks, which were ruined than the cut on his leg.

Markis was also more frantic about keeping the blade than he was about injuring his little brother. His father had bandaged it up, reminding Peeta, where cuts may hurt; they do have the chance of turning into scars, which impress girls. Peeta stuck his tongue out, exclaiming girls were gross and he would never want to impress any ever.

Katniss searched his body, her light fingers tracing every inch of him, ever the hunter, looking for a new piece revealing the complete picture of, Peeta Mellark. Her fingers stopped on his newest scar, the injury which had brought them together. Katniss' eyes became serious.

"I don't have to ask about this one."

"I'm lucky you were there."

"Don't worry about it, it's what we do. We save each other."

Peeta touched her face," How did you learn to heal?"

Katniss ducked her head, "My mother. She was adamant; I should know how to heal. It was her calling not mine. I'm a hunter much like my father, but Prim, she had the gift like my mother. She always dreamed of being a professional healer, like the ones in the Capitol. Ironic isn't it? An easily cured childhood disease killed her."

"I wish I could have been there for her, for both of you."

Katniss smiled softly, "You're here now."

"Yes, I am."

She tickled his stomach, her calloused fingers from hunting and manual labor, sending shivers up his body. Peeta watched her closely, as her hands and eyes roamed his body. They had spent the entire day in bed with each other, making love, and rediscovering each other's bodies.

They would occasionally take time to eat a little bit, before the food took second place to caresses and utter intoxication of the others body. Peeta had been concerned at first not wanting to cause her anymore physical pain, but his hormones soon won out, or it may have been the way Katniss had wrapped her legs around him, kissing his neck, occasionally scraping her teeth against the sensitive skin there.

It was also more than physical for them; they had talked about everything possible. About the first painting he ever painted, to how she had nearly impelled her father the first time she shot an arrow. After each passing hour, Peeta was even more positive of the fact, concerning his feelings for her. He was beyond a doubt head over heels in love with this woman.

He had to lose his family to find her, and it frightened Peeta how a piece of him was willing to be thankful for this. Peeta knew he was close to losing himself in this one girl, and with each moment he was stepping closer to being more content with the fact.

Katniss tickled her fingers up to his arms, bending them at the elbow. She smiled when she found a small red mark above the elbow.

"What about this one?"

"Ummm, taking a tray of hot rolls out of the oven. I actually think I kept burning myself in the same damn spot."

Katniss rubbed her thumb over the mark; Peeta took her hands, easily flipping her on her back, as he positioned his body on hers. Her laughter filled the room; her dark hair sticking to the sides of her face, Peeta brushed the strands away from face, a wide smile on his face.

"My turn!"

Peeta scooted his body down hers, as he ran his hands over her smooth skin. He kissed every inch he searched, Katniss' body reacting to his touches.

"Let's face it. I'm willing to bet, I have more scars on my body than you."

Peeta laughed into her ribs, "Of course because I'm only a soft painter."

"Did I really say such a thing?"

"Oh yes you did, but you also yelled it."

Katniss taped his head," If I remember correctly, you were being an enormous ass at the time."

Peeta nodded, "True."

He smiled into her skin, his fingers running over a deep scar, surprised he hadn't seen it before, although he had to admit it to himself, where as her stomach was beautiful there were other parts of her body, which had commanded more of his attention. The skin was lifted, and it appeared to have been stitched haphazardly.

"How did this happen?"

Katniss had her eyes closed, reveling in his body against hers, "Hmm?"

"The long one on your stomach? How did it happen?"

Katniss opened her eyes, her dark ones becoming serious, "About three months after Prim and I had been taken to the farm, and she had found an apple at the base of one of the trees which bore fruit for Elective Snow. The stupid thing was half rotten, but we hadn't seen fruit in months, and she was so proud of herself.

She had this huge smile on her face, rolling it between her open hands. We had walked into the yard, and I took it from her, afraid the guards would accuse her of stealing. All of a sudden one of the male codes came up to me, his body was thin and I could see his jaw bone stick out of his skin, more than what was healthy.

He smiled at me, and I thought it was nice to be able to talk to someone else but my small sister, but he didn't say anything, not until I felt a sharp pain in my gut, the apple falling to the muddy ground. I remember falling to the ground, with Prim holding my head.

I looked down to my hands, there was so much blood, and from the ground, I saw the guards tackle the boy to the ground as he cried for the apple. I passed out after soon after, waking up a few hours later in a bunk in the girls' barracks. I almost died because of a piece of rotted fruit. I realized then, how the Capitol had turned us into something lower than human. To survive we had to prey upon each other."

Peeta moved up her body to lie beside her, taking her forearm in his hand. Katniss watched him closely. Peeta traced the markings on her forearm, the numbers below the lines, ugly and marring her olive skin. Katniss held her arm out to him, closing her eyes to his touch.

"Did it hurt?"

"A lot. It's done as a thermal burn, it feels like you're whole body is on fire."

"Why do they do it?"

Katniss sighed," To let us know we're less than human."

"It's ironic isn't it? The Capitol sees children as these monsters when in reality; they're the ones less than human."

Katniss drew her arm away from him;" You are half Capitol born, Peeta."

Her words stung, making him a bit self conscious, "My mother was also a code."

"Well, she and I are so lucky to have Capitol men notice us."

Peeta sat up, pulling the blanket over his naked body, "What is with you?"

Katniss moved over to the far side of the bed, using the sheet to wrap around her body.

"It's just incredibly clear to me, how much we're so different from each other. Maybe there's a reason, why Capitol people see us as trash."

Peeta leaned to her, grabbing a hold of her arm to pull her to him, her head landing on his bare chest, his fingers brushing through her hair, rubbing her back gently.

"There is nothing trashy or below human about you. You are everything. Everything I see as pure…it's you. You're everything."

Katniss griped onto his side, her arm laid across his waist, her nails dug into skin, holding onto him tight. It startled Peeta when she started to cry, all of her grief emptying onto him, as tears rolled down her face and onto his chest. Her small frame shook, as Peeta tried to hold back his own tears. He bent down kissing her crown, his lips buried in her hair.

"I will always be here with you. I will always be here to protect you, it's what we do. We save each other."

* * *

Katniss woke from a vivid nightmare, where she had been back at the farm holding her little sisters body, the cold stones of the girls barracks digging into her bare knees. She rocked her body back and forth, singing to the lifeless body cradled to hers, however when she looked down to look into Prim's soft delicate features, she saw a strong jaw line instead.

Blank blue eyes stared unmoving to the ceiling, Peeta's shaggy blonde hair, felt rough against her skin, as blood pooled around them both, rising up through the empty room. Katniss held on to his shoulders, finally losing her grip when the sea of blood rose up over her face, drowning her.

She had jolted awake, sweat pouring from her body, the nightgown she had dressed with was now wet and suffocating. She pulled at the fabric allowing her skin to breath, as she finally noticed the absence of Peeta's body. She searched the room slightly frantic from the memories of her dream, as she found him in the exact place he had found her hours ago.

She sat up, padding over to him; her bare feet cool from the wooden floor boards. As she approached him, she could see him huddled over several pieces of papers. Most of the boxes were opened, their lids strewn around him, thrown by the wall. A fury was set inside her as she threw the lids back onto the boxes, startling him out of his concentration.

"What are you doing? You had no right to go through my families things! MY FAMILY!"

Katniss scrambled around the mess, wildly throwing things into the boxes, Peeta leaned up from his sitting position trying to calm her hands.

"Katniss I'm sorry about not asking first, but you have no idea what I've found."

Katniss kept her eyes from his, picking at the photos in front of her," I don't care. You had no right to go through my things."

"Technically they aren't all yours."

Katniss looked up her face confused, "What are you talking about?"

Peeta reaches beside him, picking up a thick pile of papers, "I found these letters, and our fathers had written each other. The correspondents must have been going on for years, many of the dates are well before my brothers and I were ever born," Katniss slowly sits opposite of him, her eyes locked on the letters clutched in his hands," they go on about the camps and how children are being taken from their houses. There's even detailed accounts of meetings they had in the past, which sounds an awful lot like the rebellion. If I didn't know any better, I'd think our fathers actually started the faction against Snow and the Capitol."

Katniss sighed," Peeta-"

Peeta dropped the letters into his lap, reaching for a leather bounded book," I also found this journal; your father had chronicled everything. About the rebellion, how the Capitol military works, the origin of the reaping, it's incredibly detailed, "Peeta thumbed through the pages, the intensity of his voice, troubling Katniss," he even has specific layouts of all the camps. It goes on and on. I have no idea how he and my father kept this from us."

"Peeta, I knew about our families' connection."

Peeta stilled his hands, looking up with disbelief, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Katniss held her hands up, "What would it have changed? They're both dead because of it. You and I are left alone, because they were vain enough to think it wouldn't affect the people they loved."

Peeta's body hummed with anger, "You were the one so adamant of what my father had done. Of how he was such a great man. What changed?"

"It was before I saw the look you have in your eyes now. "

"What look?"

"The one my father had, when he was so sure he was the only left who could make a difference."

"How did you even know about what he was doing?"

Katniss ran her fingers through her hair," I wasn't stupid Peeta. We never stayed in the same place more than six months. My father would disappear for days at a time, sometimes coming back with wounds, my mother had to heal. I pieced it together a couples of years before Prim and I were sent to the camp."

Peeta reached behind him, a folded piece of paper in his hand," I sketched this," he flattened out the thin piece of material, "I think it's you."

Katniss leaned over grabbing the drawing, "When did you do this?"

"About three years ago."

Katniss' eyes widened, "How?"

Peeta reached down into his lap, placing a small golden pin with a bird adorned on it, before her," I found this in the envelope where I found the letters. It had belonged to my father and when I was five, I had given it to a shy dark haired girl with two braids. Katniss I've been sketching you since I was ten. You and I were meant to find each other again, and I am meant to finish what our fathers started."

"I don't remember about the pin, and even if I did I wouldn't buy into all the crap you're trying to make me believe right now."

"What is it so hard for you to want to be a part of this?"

"Because I know how steep the price is. More so for the ones who are left behind when your damn crusade gets you killed."

"How did they die Katniss? Your parents?"

"Prim and I watched them hang. We were taken to the farm directly after. And I will be damned if I stand by to see you destroy yourself!"

"Why is it now, you're so against me doing anything of real substance? To pick up where my father left off."

"Because."

Peeta leaned forward, grabbing her by the shoulders,"Katniss, because why?"

"Just because."

"Why?"

"Because now I feel something for you! Don't you get it! I can't bear watching you leave me! Peeta I can't bury anyone else. If I lost you it would break me."

"Katniss I-"

"Don't say it now. I don't want you to say it if you plan on leaving me."

"I never said I was going."

"You didn't have to. It's written all over your face."

Peeta sighed, trying to hold her face, when she pushed him away, to stand up, "I can't just stay here when I know there are people out there who I could help."

Katniss fisted the cloth of her nightgown," Why would you care anyway? It doesn't involve you at all?"

Peeta stood up, as it was his turn to rage, "Doesn't involve me? How does it not? I lost my family, because of it! What about us? What about when we build our own family?,"Peeta sighed, his anger shuddering, "I don't want to have to stand by to wait to see our child be reaped. I can't do it."

"What do you want me to do then?"

"I want you to help me."

Katniss adverted her eyes," How?"

"There's a paragraph in your father's journal, which talks about contacting an informant he had who was close to Elective Snow, something about a tree he had hollowed out, one he used to leave messages, ways to contact the informant. Now, it doesn't give the specific location but it does talk about it being somewhere special to him, the place where he found happiness."

Katniss leaned her head back, every ounce of fight fleeing her body, "There's a tree at the end of the property, where my parents first met. My father was hunting and my mother was weaving flowers through her hair not paying attention, when she startled him. They were sixteen, and less than a month later my mother was reaped. But before they could come for her, my father took her from the district. They lived here for awhile before they had to leave."

"Can you show me where the tree is?"

"Why?"

Peeta sighed, reaching down for the journal, turning the pages rapidly," He talks of how children from the camps are moved from one to the other, and this is when to try to break them free. It works like clockwork, every six months. I remember on the day my family died, the day you said Markis was to meet you, I had placed a piece of paper with coordinates on it, at the old house on the hill. If I'm assuming correct than I think it's a location for where the next intervention will be."

"Or it may not be. All you have are assumptions, and an old journal, which is four years old."

"This is why I have to meet the contact. And I need you to help me."

Katniss nodded, a throated laugh strangling her," It's funny isn't it? I'm losing you either way."

Peeta dropped the journal stepping toward her, "Katniss-"

Katniss backed away rapidly, "You don't get to do this to me. Wanting to leave and then expecting me to allow you to console me."

Peeta lowered his head, nodding," I can respect how you feel."

"Obviously you don't or you wouldn't ask me to help you leave."

Katniss walked through the mess of memories on the floor, her feet scattering pictures in her wake. She could hear Peeta calling after her, as she walked out the door. Her bare feet sinking into the mud, as leaves clung to the end of her gown. She leaned against the trunk of a tree, her breath coming out rapidly, threatening to strangle her.

She had given her heart to a proud man, who found honor something to be priceless. She had fallen in love with a proud man, much like her father. And like her father, he would end up dangling from the nearest tree, and she would have to look on, unable to stop it.

Katniss realized this must be her true fate, to watch those she loved perish and not have the strength to change it.

* * *

Every part of her body ached; the anxiety she was experiencing threatened to tear her apart. She tightened the grip she had on her arms, as they crossed over her chest, attempting to hold herself together. She could hear him inside, walking about the cabin, still collecting things to take with him.

It had been two days since she had showed him the hollowed out tree, two days since he had placed a note inside, insisting he was the sole survivor of the Mellark family seeking answers. It had only taken a day before another note had taken the place of Peeta's, scribed with numbers and letters, a location.

Katniss had barely spoken to him since their argument, keeping her distance from him, trying to prepare herself for the inevitable silence soon to follow his departure. It felt as though she was awaiting his death, angry he had chosen this path instead of staying with her. He had chosen to leave her, much the same as her parents and Prim.

The wind ran up her body, billowing the button up shirt she had hunted in earlier in the day. The skin on her stomach prickled, sending shivers up her body. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the heat from the sun on her face. The opening of the front door, made her stomach drop, alerting her it was time for him to leave.

Katniss could feel him standing beside her; she opened her eyes, still looking forward," You said you would stay with me always."

"I'm coming back, Katniss."

"How can you be sure?"

Peeta took her hand, opening it, "Take this," he placed the golden bird pin into her palm, closing her fingers over it," I found you again once. And I will come back for this once again."

Katniss nodded, as he moved to stand in front of her, his blonde hair shining in the sun," I have to do this for me, for us, for the future we can have together. I am coming back. I will always come back to you."

Katniss squeezed the pin in her hand, its sides jabbing into her palm," Do you love me? If you're going to leave I have to know."

Peeta placed his hands on either side of her face," I have always loved you. Even before I knew you. You are and have always been my destiny."

Katniss crashed her lips onto his, breathing in his scent, taking his mouth, every texture something she was desperate to remember. She could taste the salt of her tears traveling to their adjoined lips. His hands left her face far too soon, feeling the absence of his body. She opened her eyes to see him walking away from her; every step broke her heart into pieces.

"Peeta, I love you!"

Peeta stopped, turning to face her," I know."

He gave her a small smile, which didn't reach his eyes, as he turned back around to walk off into the woods. Katniss watched him until, his figure had disappeared. Her entire body wracked with sobs, as she leaned against the post of the porch. Her stomach turned and bile rose up her throat. She barely had time before every in her stomach emptied into the soil beside the cabin.

* * *

**003G**

The months since Peeta's departure, were somber, her days quiet aside from the few conversations should would have talking to the sky. For the most part they were one sided, which made Katniss miss Peeta even more so. True the feeling of his body on hers was something she yearned for; however what she missed the most was being able to lie in my bed with him, as he stroked her hair, discussing anything from art to why the sky turned orange before nightfall.

The air in the cabin had become stale and tainted, forcing Katniss to spend most of her days sitting against a tree in the meadow, attempting to read one of the many books , he had left behind. She could see why they fascinated him so much, as they were filled with seduction, revenge, redemption, and love…pure love. She would hold the pages close to her chest, trying to breathe the scent of the musty old books in.

They reminded her of Peeta, his sense of honor and perseverance littered through the passages. Her routine was simple, as she would hunt early in the morning, with her days reading or staring into the lake, followed by the strangling silence of night. The cabin felt cold and unrelenting, reminding her of her loss.

It had been almost two months after he had left, while she suffered through what she assumed to be the flu, when she noticed the weight gain. Her face for the first time in many years had started to fill out, and her ribs were no longer as visible. She assumed having one less mouth to feed so enabling her to attain more portions for herself.

Although she wasn't quite sure why she couldn't stop the persisting need to vomit every second of the day. Her energy had also fallen considerably, as it was difficult for her to trek as far into the woods as she had come accustomed to. Most mornings involved her retching beside a tree, than actually hunting. She also started to notice, more abnormalities than just her health and energy, her breasts were more tender than she remembered and if she didn't know any better she would swear they were growing.

After three months without Peeta, the vomiting persisted, as she noticed her midsection growing, as well as swelling of her ankles which threatened to hobble her at any minute, making it difficult for her to pull on her hunting boots. One morning she stood naked in front of the floor length mirror kept in the room with the bathing basin, as she moved her hands over her body examining every scar, every new gained ounce of weight.

Her breathe caught in her throat when she finally noticed how much her stomach had grown, the realization finally hitting her like an unrelenting truth. Peeta Mellark had left something of his behind, this time it wasn't musty books or dried up paints, or even letters which had been written entailing their legacy before either one had been born.

No, he had left a part of himself with her, something tangible and sacred. When she had been at the farm a few codes had become pregnant, some either from being too friendly with male codes, or the occasional victim of assault from the hands of one of the guards. Originally only the female codes, who had been appointed to accompany Capitol officials and citizens of wealth, had been inoculated with the birth control.

However when the Masters of the facilities as well as Elective Snow himself had noticed how many resources they were wasting on having to abort fetus' of insignificant codes, each female code who had begun her menstrual cycle was injected with the medication.

She had been out of the farm for nearly a year, so it would be logical, assuming the drugs were no longer in her system. Katniss fingers curled over her stomach, closing her eyes as she concentrated on the changes of her body. She was surprised when the overwhelming anxiety she was prepared to feel never came.

She only hoped, Peeta would return to her for only a moment so he could at least be aware of what they created together. As her womb grew, so did her waist line, eventually she was forced to wear the flowing high waist dresses her mother had left behind. Katniss was aware of how bizarre it was to hunt in a floral patterned dress with ankle high boots. She also had to take in account how the extra body weight and her protruding belly affected the way she shot her prey. It was as if she had to learn everything all over again.

When she finally reached four months, the weight gain had affected her stealth, as she wasn't as graceful as she had once been twenty pounds lighter. It was interesting to her how before she had become pregnant she looked almost gaunt from the starvation she had endured from the farm, but now with her body filling in she looked almost healthy, although the extra weight wasn't helping with her hunting, which would ensure she would go without.

She spent the entire day stalking through the woods, retraining her feet to keep a new footing. After what felt like an eternity she finally bagged a small buck, it had taken her nearly longer to take it back to the cabin than it did to initially find it. She laid the buck on the ground in front of the steps of the back porch, her bare knees sinking into the ground, as she reached for the hunting knife kept in her left boot.

She had nearly skinned the entire animal before her nausea inched up her throat into her mouth. She barely had enough time to vomit beside the animal's rack before everything in her stomach, was now sinking into the ground. Katniss gripped onto her stomach, the fabric of the once delicate dress torn and muddy.

After the incident with the buck, she decided to only kill smaller game, which would involve less time to kill, and clean. From then on her meals consisted of small poultry such as birds and young grooselings, or if she felt she could handle the more gamey taste and texture she would bag a few squirrels. Although most of what she ate was from what she gathered, in the woods.

A few weeks later, leaning against a tree in the meadow where she went to read and talk to her child about its father, she noticed a group of wild flowers growing by the edge of the lake. She laid down the book beside the roots of the tree, using the trunk as support, as she held her enlarged belly.

Keeping her hands on her stomach Katniss walked over to the water's edge, kneeling down to examine the flowers. They were weeds with bright yellow petals, she remembered her father calling them dandelions. In an interesting way the flower reminded her of Peeta, with the brightness of the petals, appearing in a place she least expected.

Katniss ran her fingers over the petals, the delicate flower moving along side her touch, "Baby, you and I are going to plant these by the cabin for daddy."

Katniss scooped up the dirt below, taking a handful of the flowers with her; she cupped one hand moving the flowers as well as the dirt to her left hand. Katniss bent down slowly for the book, clutching it firmly. She made her way to the cabin admiring the plant in her hand. She would have another piece of Peeta to keep with her always.

* * *

The sound shook the walls, tearing Katniss from a deep sleep. She sat up holding her now wide torso; she dug her heels into the mattress to give her leverage. Simple things such as getting dress, hunting, and sitting up were starting to become impossible tasks. She cursed her body for becoming so large, imagining Prim teasing her about how much better it was to be wide from pregnancy than starving back at the farm.

When she finally, sat up she swung her legs over the side, her bare feet hitting the floor boards. She smoothed her nightgown over her belly, trying to calm the round of kicking which was now fluttering inside her womb. She walked over to the window looking to the sky, she could see in the distance a cloud of smoke rising. The reverberating sound had come from the district, something was unfolding and Katniss was thankful she was miles away. Although it worried her, she was able to feel the effects from so far away.

Katniss looked over to the end of the porch where she had planted the flowers more than a month now. A few had withered, although others sprung up to take their place, giving some life to the front of the cabin. Katniss was now five months pregnant, and the anticipation of the baby coming was starting to overwhelm her. She had become worried about what may happen when she gave birth, seeing how she was all alone in the middle of the woods.

She would try to breath and remind herself of how much of a fighter she was. She could hear her father's voice in her mind.

_You're a fighter my Katniss, there's a fire in your belly._

Katniss sighed, walking over to the rocking chair she had dragged out of the storage house behind the cabin. Her father had built it for his wife when she had been pregnant with Prim, and Katniss only saw it fitting to use it now as she was about to become a mother herself. She gingerly sat down, careful not to tip over, as she reached for the knitting needles and yarn, she had placed beside the chair hours prior.

Because most of her energy was spent hunting so to feed herself and her child, Katniss spent less time reading in the meadow nowadays. The majority of her time was spent working in the yard, pulling up weeds and planting other wild flowers, as she sang the songs her father had taught her. Or if she wasn't puttering around the garden she was sitting in the rocking chair, making clothes for her child.

She was thankful her parents had kept most of her and Prim's baby clothes boxed up in storage. Most of it was in decent condition, although if she gave birth to a boy she was less inclined to dress him in pink and soft lace than she would be if it turned out to be a girl.

* * *

Katniss had fallen asleep sitting in the rocking chair, her knitting needles resting on her swollen belly. She had pushed herself out of the sturdy chair, dressing quickly into a long skirt, which would ensure she didn't cut up her knees again on the rocks, in the yard. She was now digging into the ground, the earth running through her parted fingers.

She had found a beautiful bush of roses deep in the woods, which she knew to be primroses, the flower her father had his youngest daughter after. Katniss thought fondly of how their father described his daughters, as Katniss with all her fire and wit, was Prim delicate and graceful. He saw his daughters as forces of nature, equal parts of his strong will and Lily's quiet strength.

Katniss had slowly started to collect flowers, which reminded her of those she had lost. Her garden had become in a sense a memoriam for those who were taken from her. She ran her finger through the dirt, the texture feeling cool to the touch. She brushed her cheek streaking dirt below her eye, most days she left the garden covered in dirt. On particularly nice days she would lie down beside the flowers, listening to the birds sing as she ran her hand over her stomach, humming the notes.

Katniss reached for the roses, reuniting them with the earth, packing the dirt around the bush, allowing it to once again grow and contribute. She leaned over the roses to pack the dirt on the far side, she felt a low rumbling in her stomach, the baby kicking ounce again, and her hands slipped causing her to stab herself on one of the thorns. Katniss drew her hand back, wiping the hand free of dirt as best as she could before she placed it on her lips.

"Damn it."

"I've always loved a dirty mouth on a woman."

Katniss reached for the blade she kept next to her at all times, if something should arise. She griped the handle spinning around as she stood, which proved more difficult with her cumbersome belly, causing her to fumble her footing only a bit. She was at the ready, when her eyes saw the broad, light haired man standing six feet from her.

It took her eyes a few seconds to adjust, as the sunlight shown over his head, making his blonde hair shine. Katniss was stunned from her position, her firm grip on the handle not relenting. They stood there for what seemed like forever, until Peeta closed the gap.

Without the glare from the sun she could see him holding onto his side, the shirt he was wearing was darken at the spot where his hand kept. His stride was slow and steady, blonde hair fell around his eyes, the ends rubbing against a thick stubble working around his jaw moving up into his hair line. When he was only a few feet from her, he motioned to her hand.

"Do you think you could drop the blade? I have already been stabbed, unless you want to finish me off?"

Katniss' fingers relaxed, allowing the knife to fall beside her bare feet, "Peeta?"

"Yes. It's me baby."

It was Katniss' turn to close the gap this time, as she grabbed his face, pressing her lips to his. The kiss was chaste and closed mouth; however every part of her body hummed. She pulled away, her soiled hands on his sweat drenched face. His blue eyes searched her face, his breathing becoming labored.

"Peeta, when I saw you I thought I was dreaming again."

Peeta moved his free hand to her stomach, gently placing it on the obvious growth there, "Speaking of babies," Peeta stared at her stomach for a few seconds before searching her face again, "It is mine?"

Katniss held onto his face, "No. There's many half alive men I drag to my home, who I seduce and have hot dirty sex with, "Katniss let go of his face slapping him on arm," You ass of course it's yours."

Peeta smiled as he winced, dropping his shoulder slightly, "Just checking."

Katniss tried to steady him, "Did you get yourself shot again?"

"No, only stabbed this time."

Katniss moved to his side, supporting the side which wasn't injured, "You showing up, and I having to patch you up is starting to turn into a trend with us."

Peeta let out a strangled laugh, "At least this time when you get me naked, I can be awake for the show."

Katniss started to direct him up the stairs," Shut up, Peeta."

Katniss pushed the door open; her hand gripping onto Peeta's defined bicep, her ankles ached under his added weight. Peeta groaned a bit as Katniss led him to the table, her left hand shoving the empty bowl from the surface, allowing it to fall to the floor clattering. She motioned for him to sit up on the table, as she moved to the far wall where she kept her medical supplies. Katniss made her way back to him, while he leaned against the table; she organized the objects at the far end.

He motioned to her midsection," We should talk about this."

Katniss nodded," Yes, but later. Right now I'm more concerned with not having you bleed on my floors."

Peeta let out a strangled laugh, "Ok."

Katniss lightly pushed at his good side, "Sit."

Peeta hoisted himself up with his able side, sliding onto the table the rest of the way. He watched her walk to the pail where he knew she kept the fresh well water; she reached for a clean bowl, filling it with the liquid. Katniss poured the water over her hands, cleaning them of any excess dirt.

Peeta couldn't take his eyes off of her; he was still in a daze due to the new discovered full shape of her body. Her dark hair fell down in front of her, the ends tangled as he remembered. She filled the bowl of water once again, her nimble fingers holding onto the bowl. Katniss made her way in front of him, as she laid down the bowl. She pulled at the hem of his shirt, receiving his attention.

"Take this off."

Peeta nodded, reaching for the hem as he pulled it over his head," Oh, I see it now. This was all about seeing me shirtless."

"No, it was about not allowing you to bleed to death. Also if I wanted to have you naked, I wouldn't have to feign concern."

Peeta smirked, "True."

Katniss dropped a cloth into the water, squeezing it out, as she moved it to his side. The wound was still bleeding, but it had slowed, making Katniss assume the clotting process had started, which meant nothing of vital importance had been severed. She checked the wound with her fingers, measuring the length of the stab wound. It was a bit long, but the depth didn't seem too severe, she cleaned the wound, applying alcohol and antiseptic. Peeta winced, his shoulder slumping a bit.

"I change my mind. It was better when I was unconscious."

"Are you kidding me? This is nothing compared to what I had to patch up last time."

"You do seem less sicken by it."

Katniss let out a puff of air," Well vomiting every six minutes will toughen you up a bit."

"Yh, about which-"

Katniss shushed him," Later. Let's at least get you minimally healed."

Katniss bandaged up his side, feeling around his ribs, as he groaned grabbing onto his side. She couldn't feel any breaks or fractures.

"I think you have a few bruised ribs. Nothing's broken or fractured, which is good."

Peeta sighed, as he looked down at his bruised body, dried blood stuck down his side from where the wound had originally gushed. Katniss' fingers traveled around his torso, up to his chest. She couldn't help but notice how much his body had defined since she last saw him.

His muscles were visibly present, and the bit of body fat he had before was nonexistent. It would appear, both of their physical forms had taken a transformation while the other was absent. She tried not to get lost in the feel of his body, as she cleaned the few scraps on his chest. She dipped a cotton swab into antiseptic, she made out of herbs, moving it to a wide scrap on his cheek.

Katniss spread the ointment on his face, she glanced at his eyes, as he watched her closely," You look different."

Peeta laughed," So do you."

Katniss shook her head," No, not what I meant. There's something different about you."

"There's something different about you. But I suppose when you have to grow up quickly it happens."

Katniss looked over his face, there were several scratches and a black eye seemed to be forming around his left eye. She smoothed her thumbs over it, after she sat down the cotton.

"What happened here? You look like you went through a battle."

Peeta nodded, shying away from her fingers when she pressed on a tender spot," I did. I was in the district transporting about a hundred codes, to the next check point."

"So, the theatrics from this morning were because of you."

Peeta reached for the cloth washing off the access blood," I needed a distraction."

Katniss stepped back, leaning into a chair, her hands placed on her stomach," So, all the wounds? Were they also a distraction?"

Peeta kept his head down concentrating on washing his body," No, they were about vengeance."

Katniss rubbed her temple, a slight headache from all the excitement," Vengeance?"

"Against Thread. He killed my family, so I wanted to repay him the favor. Almost had the son of a bitch too, but sometimes it's not yet meant to happen."

"Thread? How did he not kill you?"

Peeta laid the cloth down, as he slowly jumped down from the table. He walked past Katniss to a discarded shirt she had worn the other day, pulling it on careful not to snag his bandage.

"I found the contact about two weeks after I left here, and until a month ago I had been training ever since."

Katniss placed her hands on the chair, turning to face him," So you left as a boy and came back as a soldier."

Peeta stepped forward towards her," It's what was needed to be done to ensure we had a future," Peeta reached his hand out, rounding the chair to stand beside her, his hand lying on her stomach," Looks like it wasn't too soon."

Katniss turned to face him, his hand able to rest on her body more firmly," How far a long do you think you are?"

Katniss couldn't meet his eye," I think about five months. I just started to feel it kick."

Peeta's mouth widened into a grin, " Really?"

Katniss nodded, as she placed her hand on top of his," Yes."

"Is it time to talk about the baby yet?"

"Peeta-"

"Katniss, are you ok with this? I never wanted to cause you more pain, and I never would have left if I had known."

"Yes you would of, because it was the right thing to do. And you're back now and it's all I wanted."

Peeta moved his hands up her body, resting his thumbs on her pulse points," I thought of you every second, when I was gone. Your face got me through all the pain. The very thought of making it back to you carried me through."

Katniss lowered her head, dark hair spooling down between their two bodies," I missed you too."

Peeta moved his right hand to her jaw, moving her face up," Then give me a proper hello, because the kiss out front was pitiful."

Katniss laughed," You were bleeding, and injured."

Peeta shook his head," It's no excuse for your laziness, Miss Everdeen."

Katniss smiled, as Peeta brought her closer tilting her mouth up to meet his, she was hesitant, worried the months they spent a part had somehow changed the way they communicated with their bodies. Katniss shivered as Peeta's lips found hers, the heat from his mouth sent her body into shock, and it had been so long since she had been able to feel him. This time it was Katniss' tongue, which demanded entrance, ravishing his mouth, as the two battled for dominance.

Katniss trailed her fingers up his jaw bone, lightly scratching the new stubble which lived there. Her fingers soon found his long blonde hair, tangling her hands in the sweaty mess. Peeta moaned into her mouth, as he moved his own hands to her back, balling the fabric of her shirt in his fists. What had started as slow and gentle was turning into feverish and urgent, as they both pulled at the others body, yearning to be closer.

Katniss' lips felt bruised and swollen; however the need in her won out, as Peeta's hands made their way over the hem of her shirt, lifting it up quickly, to meet her bare skin. Katniss moved her hands from his hair, earning a slight whimper from him due to the absence of her hands. Katniss smiled into his mouth, as she slid her own hands under his shirt, spreading her petite hands over his chest.

She was careful not to injure him further, although all she wanted to do was scratch down his chest towards his torso. His hands ran up and down her spine, and she noticed his hands had become more calloused than she remembered, although the pressure of his touches was something which would never change. Peeta bit at her lip, as she returned the action, their mouths both battered and hungry.

The both pulled away for air, as Katniss looked into his blue eyes, they had changed, something in him was different somehow a bit less bright, but she knew what war could do to a man, and she had no doubt Peeta was already in the thick of it.

Peeta could see the concern in her eyes, her dark pools almost broke him, as he could see her searching his own for answers. He knew she sensed something had changed in him, her instincts unnerving him. He was contemplating pulling away from her, shielding himself from the guilt he would feel when she realized how he had changed.

He left her an idealistic painter, and had come back as a soldier. He had beaten his body and mind into a machine, his only objective to do whatever it took to ensure her safety. She was his sole purpose, his reason for fighting against those who would oppose those similar to her. He was prepared and willing to deal with the consequences of his actions, although he wasn't quite prepared to have her know how far he had gone.

Katniss could see his mind working; his face became troubled, as his bright blue eyes glassed over. Katniss massaged his chest, her thumbs working into the muscles there.

"It doesn't matter what happened. Not now. This time is only about you and me, finding each other again, in the best way we know how."

Peeta smirked, his lips curving, "And what way exactly?"

"Are you really going to make me say it?"

"No. I just find it amusing how a pregnant woman, can still be embarrassed about sex."

Katniss pushed into his chest, a soft giggle coming from her mouth," Shut up!"

Peeta grabbed onto her wrists, the fabric of the shirt bunching up, as he brought her closer to him, crashing his mouth onto hers. His kisses were even more urgent before, Katniss barely had an opportunity to breath, as Peeta tried to discover her mouth once again.

Peeta parted his lips from her, his breathing coming out rapidly, as he laid his forehead against hers. His eyelashes tickled her own, sending shivers back down her back to meet his strong hands. Peeta leaned forward kissing her nose gently, as he slid his hands down to the waist line of her skirt. His hands tickled underneath her stomach, as he smoothed his right thumb over where their child was.

Katniss closed her eyes, lost in his touches, as he bent down, moving her skirt down as he lowered his own body. Katniss held onto his sturdy shoulders for support, as the air hit her now bare bottom half of her body. Peeta knelt in front of her both surprised and glad to find the absence of underwear.

Katniss blushed, opening her eyes, "I can't wear them anymore. I got too big and the elastic was cutting off the circulation."

Peeta laughed, as he looked up at her," They only get in the way."

Katniss slapped his shoulder, as he wrapped his hand around her legs, helping her step out of the skirt. Katniss kicked it away as it pooled at her feet, while Peeta's hands glided up her now toned legs. His hands stopped below her bottom, as he moved them to her front, lifting up her shirt, securing it on the top of her stomach. Peeta placed his hands on her bare stomach, running his fingers over the stretched skin there.

Katniss shut her eyes for a few seconds reveling in his touches, as he leaned forward, gently kissing her stomach. Katniss moved her hands to his hair, noticing how it had darkened a bit. He laid his hands flat, spreading his fingers out, never taking his eyes off her body.

"You are so beautiful."

Katniss shuddered, her body starting to feel weak, as Peeta slid is hands around her body, down to her bottom, cupping her there. He pressed his lips into her stomach, she faltered a bit. He held her up supporting her body with his strong arms. He looked up to her, his brows knitted in concern.

"Are you ok?"

"Yes. It's just I can't stand still for very long."

Peeta nodded, as he rose up to his full height, taking her hands from his hair to enclose his fingers over hers. He moved to her side, releasing one of her hands to brace her back, as he walked her to the bed. When they made to the edge, he braced her under her arms, lifting her on the bed gently. Katniss reached for the hem of her shirt bringing it over head, her naked body coming into full view.

She let the fabric slip from her fingers, the shirt landing at Peeta's feet. Her dark hair fell to her side; Katniss wrapped the ends around her fingers, pushing the thick strands at her back. Peeta stared at her naked body, the sweat beads had started to form on her olive skin, which seemed to shine even more so because of the pregnancy. It took his breath away how incredibly sexy and awe inspiring it was, knowing she would give birth to his child.

Katniss started to become restless from his hesitation, as she pulled him between her legs, reaching for the hem of his own shirt. She lifted it slowly over his bandage, not wanting to catch the fabric on the cloth bandage. She made it halfway up his chest, as he replaced her hands bringing the shirt over his head. His blonde hair crashed round his jaw line, as Katniss laid her small hands on his torso, watching him.

Peeta slipped his boots off, kicking them to the side, while he unbuttoned his pants, pushing them down his legs. Something below Katniss' abdomen rushed up through her body, it was intense and almost animalistic. She wanted nothing more than to feel Peeta inside her; she needed to feel him close, to have him claim every part of her.

Peeta kicked his jeans over to where his boots fell on their sides, his hands latched onto her hips bringing her even closer. Katniss reached for the elastic on his boxers, her fingers teasingly hooking into the fabric there. Peeta moaned, his impatience growing, as he pushed his underwear down his legs, the article at his feet, as he stepped out.

They stood there for the longest time for either one of them spoke. The anticipation of what was to come bubbling over, Katniss lowered her head.

"I don't think I can take your weight anymore."

She placed her hands on her swollen belly, Peeta nodded understanding what she was trying to convey. He crawled onto the bed, his back against the far wall, as he motioned for her to come to him.

"Come here. I have an idea."

Katniss scooted to him, as he helped her into his lap, he could feel how moist she was already. The heat from her core, send a fever up his body. He tried to restrain himself, knowing how frightened she may be, this being the first time she'd be making love while being pregnant. Katniss settled her knees to each side of Peeta's legs, the bed lowering under their weight.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, threading her fingers through his now longer hair. Peeta grabbed onto her hip bones, slowly lowering her body onto his erection. The both moaned in unison, as Katniss settled onto him. She was already incredibly wet, and the tightness of her walls, increased the pressure he felt. Peeta slowly moved her body up and down, the friction almost too much for him to handle.

Katniss clawed at his neck, as she moaned, quickly taking over the pace, needing to speed it up. Peeta's grip pressed into her body, he was sure the delicate olive skin there would bruise. Katniss leaned forward, pressing her mouth to his, their tongues eventually finding each other, teeth scraped against skin, as hands pulled at the others body.

Everything was frantic and raw; the distance created between them was being bridged with their two writhing bodies, as the sweat poured from their pores.

Peeta moved his hands up her back, sweat slicked up her back as he glided his fingers up her skin, to barely reach her shoulder blades. Her dark hair tangled in his fingers, as he brought her body forward, parting their mouths, to rest his on her naked breasts. They had grown significantly more than he remembered, due to the result of her pregnancy.

Katniss moaned as his warm mouth connected with the sensitive skin, he sucked on the salty skin, twirling his tongue around the perky nipples. He took his time finding every inch of skin, as she rode in a steady motion. Peeta leaned his head back, banging it lightly against the wall, as he could feel his release soon approaching.

Every muscle in his body was about to give out, as he could feel her body tensing. Peeta leaned forward bringing their foreheads together, as both bodies in unison rode the wave. Every part of Katniss exploded at once, every part of her belonged to the man in front of her, and as he peeked when she did. She could read his bright blue eyes knowing beyond a doubt he had given her everything he had as well.

Peeta held onto her back lowering both their bodies down to the bed, their skin slick from sweat and passion. The only sound heard in the cabin being their labored breathing, as both waited for their pulses to steady. Peeta moved himself up the bed with his elbows, his damp hair sticking to his face, as his head leaned against the headboard.

Katniss followed suit trying to work around her enlarged stomach, her naked body settled beside his, her skin still warm. Her breathing started to settle, as her stomach fluttered, the baby making its presence known.

Peeta let out a winded laugh," If I knew it was going to be like this with a pregnant woman, I would have knocked you up awhile ago."

Katniss rolled her eyes," Wow, such lovely pillow talk, honey."

Peeta laughed out loud, as he scooted down to meet her, his lips inches from hers," You like my pillow talk."

Peeta closed the gap kissing her fully, Katniss giggled into his mouth, as she parted from his lips," Yh, yh, keep lying to yourself."

Peeta moved his hands down to her sides, tickling her lightly, she rolled from side to side laughing," It's going to be like this, is it?"

Katniss fought for breath, pushing his hands from her," Ok you win you're very romantic!"

Peeta laughed lowering his face to hers, rubbing his cheek on hers, his eyelashes tickling her skin. Katniss sighed, as she was utterly content with where she was at the moment. Peeta pulled from her, lying on his side, he propped himself up on his elbow looking down at her. Katniss kept his eye contact, as they searched each other's faces. Peeta was the first to break the silence as he smoothed her hair from her face.

"Are you alright with being a mother at seventeen?"

Katniss shrugged," My mother was my age when she first had me, and she and my father were on the run. It wasn't until I was four, before it was even possible for us to come back here to the cabin."

Peeta swallowed, " Katniss you may have to do the same. I've started something when I headed off against Thread. I can feel it."

Katniss reached up to his face, caressing his skin there," However it has to happen, we'll be together. I am behind anything you do. I am proud to love you."

"You have a fire inside of you, Katniss Everdeen."

Peeta held her face with his free hand, as he lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her softly. Katniss increased the pressure, her stomach lurching. She flinched a bit, causing Peeta to search her face concerned. Katniss laughed placing her hands on her stomach, motioning Peeta to feel, pulling his hand down with hers. Peeta's hands kept still for awhile before he smiled feeling the tiniest bit of movement.

Katniss' smiled widened, as she looked to Peeta," Someone's trying to say hi."

Peeta sighed, laughing directly after, as he lowered his body down the bed, positioning his body to lay his head on her stomach. His breath was soft on her skin, as he traced circles on her skin.

"Hi, baby. Daddy's home and I'm never leaving you or your mommy ever again."

* * *

Katniss dug her heels into the soil, the damp dirt burying her toes. Petals blew off her stomach, as the wind picked up, her skirt rippling. Her fingers weaved the flowers together, the rope running the length of her legs. It had been a month since Peeta's return, and her belly had grown significantly rendering her from doing anything strenuous.

Peeta had taken over the hunting duties, at first Katniss was skeptical he possessed the skills to do so. However when he came back about five hours later, dragging a small buck behind him, she was more than pleased. His aim had approved astronomically from the first hunting excursion they had, when Katniss tried to teach him how to use a bow.

A lot of things had changed in Peeta, he seemed more confident, solid, but something was different, he held something back from her. Katniss spent most of her time in the garden, lying beside her flowers as she sang to her unborn child.

Peeta would sometimes disappear into the woods, not coming back for hours, at times he would come back empty handed. She tried to ask him once, but he only brushed her off, saying he needed some time to think. Katniss didn't see the need to press the issue further, as she quickly changed the subject.

Most days after he dragged back his kill, he would sit in the garden with her, as her head laid in his lap listening to him read. She did notice how Peeta always kept a blade beside him, even when they slept, it was as if he knew of something to come, and they were powerless to stop it.

He was always patient with her, almost to the point of coddling her, which would infuriate her. Katniss would scold him, lecturing him about which she may be pregnant, but she wasn't an invalid.

The slamming of the back door drew her attention to Peeta walking toward the clearing, which lied beyond the hill. She sat up on her elbows, brushing the flowers off her stomach. Katniss watched his figure disappear through the woods; she pursed her lips, pondering the idea of following him. She planted her feet, lifting herself off of the ground with a groan.

Katniss held the small of her back with one hand, as she walked over to the side of the porch, reaching for her boots. With the support of the boards she slipped on her boots, leaving the shoe laces to fall free. Her feet had started to swell due to the added weight on her small frame, usually resulting in her wearing the boots lose. Katniss secured the blade she kept on her body, slipping her hand into her pocket.

The cool steal, burned her touch a bit, as she gripped the handle gently, wanting to be sure of its presence. Katniss pushed off the porch, walking out towards to woods, looking for the obvious tracks Peeta had left. It insulted her how poorly he tried to cover up his point of direction.

_Did he doubt she would have the conviction to follow him? Or it could have been the fact he trusted her enough, believing she wouldn't become curious enough? _Katniss shook her head, waking herself out of her assumptions; they weren't helping her in the least.

Katniss used the trees to help lower her to the ground as she analyzed the markings on the ground, a disturbed leaf here and there, or a few broken twigs. She had to admit she was still impressed with how much he had improved, when it came to covering his tracks.

They were obvious to her; however to anyone else the markings would have appeared the product of the wild life, who roamed about. Katniss' muscles began to ache; she hadn't exerted so much energy in quite awhile. She stayed about twenty feet behind him, not wanting to alert him to her presence.

Peeta stopped, his feet securely planted as he leaned against the trunk of a tree. He couldn't help smiling to himself, when he thought of Katniss following him. He had made it easy for her to follow him on purpose. Peeta only hoped she didn't make it difficult for him later, when he made his ploy known. His mental ramblings were abruptly interrupted when he was pulled from the tree, swung about.

It took Peeta a few seconds to gain his bearings, but not before he was punched across the face, jerking his head to the side. He gained his composure quickly, solidifying his footing, his palms up facing forward waiting for another attack.

The older man stood a foot from him, leaning from side to side, much like a serpent waiting for the appropriate time to attack. Peeta slowed his breathing as he was taught, while his eyes never left the man's. It was a split of a second before the other man attacked, going for Peeta's wrist to most likely disable him to the ground.

Peeta being a bit faster in stepped, grabbing his wrist, his fingers locked as he torked the man's arms down, his elbow colliding with the older man's nose. The older man winced back, stumbling a bit, as he forced his nose back into place, a popping sound resounding. Peeta stepped back himself, his breathing a bit rushed, as he glared at the man in front of him.

"What the hell is with you?"

The man smiled through a mouth of blood, spitting the remainder on the ground," Just keeping you on your toes, kid. Thought with all the damn time you've been keeping with a broad, you would be a bit rusty."

Peeta crossed his arms, a smirk on his lips," And the verdict?"

The man whipped his mouth," Don't get cocky kid, it's the surest way to get the shit kicked out of you, or worse."

Katniss kept her place leaning against the tree, her blade in her hand since the man attacked Peeta. She had contemplated coming to his rescue, however her enlarged stomach had stopped her. So here she stood gripping her knife for dear life, watching as Peeta exchanged words with him.

It was clear to her, Peeta was familiar with him, his stance had changed significantly, he standing almost casual, which confused Katniss a great deal. She observed the man, he wasn't much taller than Peeta, although his body wasn't as muscular, and his shoulders were narrower, than Peeta's.

From here she could see how his shirt was buttoned incorrectly, and how desperately his pants were need of hemming. He had his long blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail, the strands held together with what appeared to be a leather string.

His appearance was deceptive of how well and quickly he fought, she even had the assumption, the man had let Peeta win. She relaxed the hold on her blade, using the hand to grab a hold of the tree, as a wave of nausea took over. This was a reminder of why she tried not to become as excited as of late, much of her energy went towards not vomiting.

Peeta looked over to Katniss, as she started to double over, her nails scraping the bark, as dry heaves took over her body. Peeta sighed, motioning for the man to follow him as he approached the pregnant woman gasping for air.

"What was so important, which gave you of all people incentive enough to drag yourself across the districts? What Haymitch?"

Haymitch cracked his neck, as he reached into his pocket bringing out a flask," Please for the love of the spirits," he unscrewed the top, as he downed a bit of whiskey," can we talk on this when she's not heaving up all her innards in the middle of the damn woods?"

Peeta looked back at him, as he trekked up the mole hill, reaching Katniss. Her hair was flooding to her face as she tried to blow it away, as bile rose up her throat. Peeta reached her side, gathering up her hair, gently pulling it to her back. He laid his hand on hers where it gripped the knife; her fingers had laxed making the blade start to fall. Peeta grabbed the knife, bending down to stick it in the ground.

"It may not be wise to hold a weapon while vomiting."

Hatmitch shrugged throwing his head back, another gulp of hard liquor burning down his raw throat," Why not? I do it all the time."

Peeta stood up to Katniss' height, his back hunched over, as he gripped her hand, now free of the blade.

"You know, next time you want to track a man, you may try not to heave a few feet from him. And I have to admit, being pregnant is not improving on your ability to be stealth."

Katniss glanced at him glaring, as another round of bile rose up, meeting the ground," I-I-should-have stabbed-you."

Peeta rubbed her back with his free hand, "You are so very cute when you threaten bodily harm."

Katniss' breathing slowed as the nausea subsided, she whipped her mouth with the back of her hand, as she stood up, turning away from Peeta's touch. He stood back giving her enough room to compose herself, even though he would rather be holding onto her. Katniss straightened her back trying to be as imposing as one could be while six months pregnant.

"Why have you been stalking into the woods? Is it to fight an old drunk?"

Haymitch straightened his back, the pouch of alcohol forgotten for a second," Hey! I ain't so old."

Peeta closed his eyes trying to block out Haymitch, he opened them quickly fixating on the angry girl before him," Katniss this is Haymitch Abernathy. He's the contact."

Katniss shook her head, struggling for reason," The drunk is the contact? The person you went to see? The one who kept you away for nearly half a year?"

Haymitch pointed towards Peeta, " Which was his own choice."

Peeta looked to the blonde haired man," Haymitch-"

Katniss threw up her arms," This buffoon is a part of the resistance?" Katniss shook her head again, "Wait. Abernathy? As in the great Vanquisher Haymitch Abernathy? The man of the codes? My father would talk about you often. How you were a fierce warrior. Although, all I see is a meaningless drunk."

Haymitch lifts up his right arm, whipping his mouth off with his sleeve," Well, don't you have your ass on a pedestal? Pretty self righteous for someone who just upchucked in front of a damn stranger. Although, James was always a little too uppity for my taste, but he was a good man."

Katniss' eyes widened," You knew my father?"

"I just guess you're Everdeen's girl since, the kid here said he was staying in the woods with a girl who showed him the contact spot. And as paranoid as Jimmy was, I'm sure he didn't post the damn place in the Capitol gazette."

Katniss fidgeted, rubbing her stomach unintentionally, as Haymitch took another swig," Still the kid didn't mention exactly what sort of time he was spending in the woods," Haymitch looked Katniss up and down, clearly stopping at her rounded belly," must have been a good time? Or I'm just hoping, I've always been an optimist."

Peeta cleared his throat, he needed to down play the intensity between the other two, knowing how the stress may affect Katniss and the baby," Haymitch, what is so important?"

"More than I want to discuss out here in the whacking woods."

Peeta walked to Katniss' side taking her hand, as she leaned on him for support, "The cabin's up the way, we can talk there."

Haymitch walked pass Katniss, the swell of alcohol wafting off his body, causing the bile in her stomach to rise. Peeta noticed the anguish on her face, as she tightened her grip on his hand.

Peeta motioned to the flask in Hatmitch's hand as it was midway to his lips," Haymitch, do you think you can cool it with the booze? The smell can make pregnant women want to vomit. And since there happens to be one here-"

Haymitch scrunched up his nose, his light colored eye brows fusing," Why I'm not the one who knocked her up. Pleasing her is your job. Or at least I hope you gave her a good tickle for all the trouble she's in now. Right, sweetheart?"

* * *

The summer air sweltered inside the cabin, a cool breeze floated through the opened door, catching Katniss on the back of her neck. She relaxed a bit from the contact, as she rocked in her chair trying to keep her idle hands busy. Peeta and Haymitch had been huddled over the table for more than an hour now.

Peeta had been tense ever sense they reached the cabin, he had been extremely specific about what information Haymitch let slip out within her earshot. She had to admit the way he was treating her like a child was absolutely infuriating, and her temper was starting to win out her patience. She watched Peeta closely, as he motioned toward something on the table.

When the two men initially reached the table, Haymitch had pulled something from his waist band; it appeared to be a few sheets of wide paper. Katniss huffed, and threw the knitting she had unraveled to the floor; she hoisted herself up from the chair. Her back arched, as he stomach lifted into the air, a groan escaped her lips as her muscles moved, her back straightening.

Katniss stomped over to the table with as much force, as a pregnant woman could muster, as she pushed Haymitch aside, staring Peeta dead set in the eyes.

"I am not some damn child! You both will tell me everything, and stop trying to protect me. I did well on my own for a very long time before you came around."

Haymitch scratched his facial hair, as he hid his smile behind his hand, sneaking a look to Peeta who was looking to him, over Katniss' head. Haymitch gave a quick nod, turning his attention back to the table.

Peeta cleared his throat," Katniss the less you know the better. I don't want-"

"Tell me now!"

Peeta leaned over the table, his hands firmly planted," Haymitch?"

Katniss turned to the older man as he rubbed his face, "They're gonna start televising the arena, and the reapings."

"What? Why?"

"Snow needs to show his dominance even more now."

Katniss tried to clear her head, as she leaned her right side against the table for support, "Why so much more now?"

Peeta was barely audible behind her, "Because of me."

Katniss nearly fell over as she spun toward Peeta," Why?"

Peeta kept his head down, his long blonde hair falling into his eyes," The night before I came back. The theatrics you pointed out, they were explosions. I had to buy enough time for all of the codes to get through the square of the district and Thread was closing in with his troops. So-I blew up the left side of the justice building."

Peeta looked to Katniss, as her eyes grew studying his face, "How muchtime did you actually need? There shouldn't have been a need for explosives with only twenty kids to move."

Peeta shook his head, his golden hair whipping against his jaw line," It wasn't twenty."

Haymitch studied the plans in front of him," More like two hundred."

Katniss kept her back to Haymitch, locking eyes with Peeta, "Two hundred is nearly the code population of any farm."

Peeta's lips cracked a slight smile," I know."

"It's why you had to take on Thread isn't it? To make sure the kids got to the rally point."

"Yes and other reasons."

Haymitch picked up a loose pencil throwing it over Katniss' head as it collided with Peeta's back," Now seeing as the girl mentioned it. Why the fuck, didn't you kill the prick?"

Peeta ran his hands over the papers in front of him," Complications."

Haymitch snorted," Well 'cause of you and your damn complications, the psycho has been pulled from running the district Keeper troops, to being bumped down to running this pretty little new farm here."

Peeta glared Haymitch down," Don't worry I did some damage."

Hatmitch chuckled, the sound strangled," Oh, I know, kid. He's not so pretty anymore with a blooming scars across his face. Let's see if the great killer of the innocent pulls as much skirt as he did before."

Katniss nodded, "So, you did pay him back four stabbing your side?"

"It's a give and take relationship."

Katniss sighed looking to the table at the papers scattered between the two men. The yellowed paper was scribbled with faint lines; an unsteady hand had crafted them. She realized most of the spelling was incorrect, and the numbers were difficult to read.

She ran her fingers over the lines, as it struck her quickly. These were layouts of a camp, as the dimensions came into view, Katniss was even surer of it. She assumed the drawings had been done by Haymitch, his unsteady hand added to her suspicions.

Peeta rubbed his jaw, as he reached for his neck, the stress clearly laying on him," Snow's rebuilding his camp. I suppose he thinks he made it far too easy me. More than ever he has to show the districts as well as the Capitol, he has utter control over those who are inferior born. The Capitols whole way of life relies on the codes, and the districts. If anyone thinks he's losing his grasp in the slightest, he's lost everything and he will not see this happen."

"So, he's testing you?"

"In more ways than one."

Katniss shook her head," What do you mean?"

Haymitch reached for the papers gathering them up into a pile," The kid here, is now the Capitols number one enemy. Snows got his face plastered on every jumbo tron bulletin and screen through the damn place."

"My father always said I was destined to be known by the Capitol."

Haymitch chuckled as he rolled up the plans, slipping them into his pants, "Luka always was the smartest out of us all," Haymitch elbowed Katniss in the side," although Jimmy did have the biggest balls. Bravest son a bitch I ever met and it's saying a lot."

Katniss nodded, as she straightened her back," Thank you, I think."

Haymitch shrugged, taking a swig of whiskey," Take it or leave it."

Katniss watches as Hatmitch walks out the front door, planting himself down on the porch steps, breathing in the cool breeze. She catches Peeta's arm before he walks out of the room to join the older man.

"You shouldn't have to hide things from me."

"I didn't want you to look at me differently."

"Why would I?"

"Because even I didn't mean to, I've become a part of this rebellion, and I didn't want you to be angry with me the way I know you are with your father."

Katniss looked to the ground, as Peeta watched her closely," I may have to come to terms with it all, huh?"

Peeta reached for her jaw, bringing her face up to face his," Maybe."

Katniss nodded slowly, walking from him as she made her way back to her chair, picking up the tangled knitting. She laid the yarn on her stomach, as her nimble fingers started to weave. Peeta watched her for a few seconds before he slowly walked out the door.

He stood behind Haymitch before he sat beside him. The old boards creaking under their weight, as Peeta settled in looking out into the sunset. Haymitch sat next to him in silence as he nursed the remaining liquor in his flask.

"Kid, you know how bad it is with the girl being knocked up, right?"

Peeta kept his face calm, "Haymitch-"

Haymitch lowered his head, closing the gap between him and the young boy," Snow would give anything to get his scaly hands on a kid of yours. Push the child into the arena and watch the thing get hacked to pieces. Although only if the child survived the hoarding houses."

"You did."

"It's cause I'm one broken hard son of a bitch. I wouldn't want anyone I cared about having to go through it. And you know what they do to the mothers. A bullet to the head or some poison to the veins. And I will be even more damned before I see another one of Jimmy's girls die because of Snow."

Peeta shifted from side to side," Looks like we need to give the baby a father."

"Peeta?"

Peeta pulled at the loose threads of his pants," Did you ever find out where Gale Hawthorne was moved to?"

"Kale's oldest boy? Yh, Snow had him join the ranks of his military. Believe he's an officer right now, living in the Capitol. Why?"

Peeta looked to the older man, snatching the liquor from his hand as he took a swig," You know why?"

Haymitch lowered his voice, as it hissed," Are you cracked? You're whole bleeding face is around there."

Peeta tossed the flask back to Haymitch as he glanced over his shoulder, at a concentrated Katniss," I have to."

* * *

Everything about the Capitol sent Peeta's skin crawling, the decadence, the absolute ignorance when he came to acknowledging those who were suffering was enough to make him want to burn the entire city down. A part of him was ashamed knowing, he had ties to this place through his father, even though he knew the man had given it up years ago.

It was difficult for Peeta to picture his father, living his life beside the peculiar and cruel people of the Capitol. Peeta crouched deeper into the shadows, as a few pedestrians passed by the opening of the alley. He moved his hands to his hood, making sure it was secure.

He nearly been caught as he entered the city, the main gate was surrounded by Keepers. He had been lucky enough to blend in with a group of codes who were sent through the service area.

Peeta had finally located the housing which was appointed to Gale. He had been waiting in the alley underneath the stairwell for some time, as he decided just how he was going to approach this situation. The glare from the blinking lights burned his eyes, even in the darkness.

He had been taken aback to finally see himself posted up on one of the jumbo trons, the picture from a few years ago when his father had his citizen photo made. A dry voice blared out of the speakers listing his offenses, such as they were. Peeta had shook his head, as one of his crimes was listed as the thievery of stolen property, he had no doubt the offense was referring to the hundreds of children he had helped survive. He was also surprised by how much poverty there seemed to be in the Capitol, when you ventured far enough into the slums.

Peeta had never thought a place which was known for its glitz could have places lacking the luster, although he assumed with how devious the Capitol actually was, it was bound to have some tarnish. Peeta looked up to the stairs, breathing in deep before he reached up, bringing the ladder down to his height. His side still ached from where Katniss had patched it up; he assumed his ribs were a bit bruised even now.

He had taken quite a beating from Thread, however he had given it just as bad. Before he had been trained by Haymitch, Peeta was certain Thread would have killed him in a matter of minutes, so Peeta was more than alright being able to escape with a stab wound and bruises.

When the first rung of the ladder was eye level, Peeta hoisted himself up, claiming up the rusty ladder, to the window of Gale's housing. Peeta reached into his boot taking out his blade as he inched it between the window seal, sliding around the brick before he found the alarm. It was small and a quite out of date with its technology, making it simple for Peeta to sever the wiring, as he twisted the cords together with his pointer fingers.

He wetted the ends with a bit of his saliva, praying to the spirits to help him not to shock himself. The copper wiring gave a little spark, as the humming started, then all was silent. Peeta smiled to himself, as he was a bit shocked it actually worked.

He crouched down, as he slid the window up entering the dark apartment. His heavy boots set down on the carpet, his footing steady as he turned to the window sliding it closed. The light from the blinking adds from outside lit the room. It was sparsely furnished with only a simple brown chair in the middle of the room.

The walls were painted a simple white, which were bare much like the rest of the apartment. Peeta studied the room, wanting to know his surroundings in case he had to defend himself, if Haymitch's Intel was wrong, due to his drinking. Peeta's body stilled as the front door lock began to click, the door knob turning. Quickly he rushed to the connecting wall, his body next to the door.

He finally realized he still held onto his blade from before with the window. He closed his eyes trying to steady his breathing.

The door opened slowly, as Peeta bent down slowly, slipping the blade into his boot. He knew if he had to fight he would rather injure the other person than kill them. Peeta wasn't afraid to try to survive, but it would be stretch of time between when he would kill someone.

He had spent a month trying to convince himself, the Keepers he had killed were just as likely to do the same to him, and the many children who were present, but it never seemed to quiet his guilt. Peeta straightened his back, blending into the darkness of the room. His hood hung over his blue eyes, only giving him a visual advantage, where as anyone looking upon him couldn't see his eyes.

One of Haymitch's rules was always if you can never allow an enemy to see your eyes. They will always give your intentions away, although it was also something one could use against an opponent.

Peeta waited for the figure to make it to the opposite wall, lighting the room. His eyes had to adjust to the light, as the figure kept his back turned toward him, tossing a set of keys, and an entrance card on the counter. Peeta cleared his throat, causing the dark haired man to whirl around. The uniformed young man reached for his firearm.

Peeta peeled back his hood, his voice steady," You know there really shouldn't be weapons between friends. How have you been, Gale?"

Gale's eyes widen at the man in front of him," Peeta?"

Peeta smoothed his hair from his face," Yh, it's me."

Gale released his finger from the grip of his revolver," It hardly even looks like you."

"Well things change,"Peeta motions to the uniformed man's appearance," clearly."

Gale moves his hands to his sleek hair smoothing back a lose strand," I didn't have much choice."

Peeta walked to the center of the room, scratching his heads absentmindedly," Oh, there's always a choice."

Gale closed the gap, each man staring the other down," Sure, like your stunt in twelve, with your run in with Thread. I hope you know he sees it as his mission to bring your body in, and I don't think taking you in alive is a concern of his. Seeing the way you shredded his face."

"He murdered my family."

"Peeta, your mother killed herself. Delilah was always a sick woman."

Peeta stepped forward his voice deep," And this place made her so."

Gale shook his head," What are you going to do? Take Snow head on? Mark up the face of any high ranking officer?"

Peeta nodded, his fists at his sides," If I have to-yes."

"Is this why you risked your life to come here? To let me know how determined you are to destroy yourself?"

Peeta laughed," I couldn't give a shit what you think. Seeing how you crawled to the Capitol," Peeta flicked the medal pins on Gale's chest, "Those are some nice bars."

"Fuck you, Peeta. It was the only way to save my family. I don't need your judgments."

Peeta sighed, swallowing his pride, "I didn't come here to fight. I need you to do something for me."

Gale stepped back, shocked," A favor? Why would I do anything for you? My life will never be as it was."

"You owe my family."

"I owe nothing."

"But your father does."

Gale moved from Peeta, trying to fight the temptation to strike him," Then go deal with him."

"It's you who needs to make it right."

Gale clenched his fists," And what would it be?"

"The only reason why you never ended up being reaped and put into a camp is because of my father, and the chance he took on yours. He gave you and your siblings a life, when his children lost theirs."

"What do you even need?"

"There's a pregnant code who's unable to list the father for the child's birth slip. I need you to take her in, and act as the father."

Gale almost choked on his laughter," Oh, is that it? As long as it's nothing complicated."

"It's a common situation for Capitol officers to take on codes as mates. They won't think twice about it."

Gale shook his head to clear it," Why are you going to so much trouble to protect one code?" Peeta's shoulders stiffened, " It's your kid, isn't it?"

Peeta glared at him head on, "Yes."

Gale laughed sharply," So, little virginal Peeta Mellark finally got some?"

"I need to move her into the city as soon as possible. The more you're seen with her before the child comes the better."

Gale ran his hand through his dark hair," I never said I would do it."

Peeta once again closed the gap," Oh, you will, Gale. Or I will let the proper authorities know your involvement with my family. And I doubt you'll get anymore fancy pins after which."

"You'll sell me out? One of your oldest friends, for some girl you knocked up?"

Peeta straightened his jacket as he stood inches from Gale, his eyes blazing;" I will burn this whole country down to protect her and my child."

Gale smirked, "Looks like you finally became a fighter."

* * *

Katniss pulled the case from Peeta's hands, opening it clumsily, the latch releasing. She deftly dumped her belongings back onto the bed, pushing them away from his grasp. As she threw the case onto the bed, on top of the clothing and books.

Her voice was high, and panicked," Absolutely not! I am not going!"

Peeta righted the case, packing everything again just as he did the last six times," Stop being so damn stubborn."

Katniss turned on him, pushing him over slightly," Are you cracked? I am not pretending to be some mistress for a Capitol officer you know. Maybe Haymitch punched you in the head too many times."

Peeta closed the case, placing it away from her grasp," It's the only way. The baby needs a father to put on the birth slip, and we both know it can't be me."

"I don't know why-"

"Katniss if the child is born a basterd, they will take it to the hoarding house, but not before they kill you. This is the only way I know how to save the both of you."

"By sending us to the worse place possible?"

Peeta looked to her, his blue eyes glassy," It's the only way I know. Katniss I watched my brother witness the death of his wife and their child, right before they put a bullet through his brain, as he bled to death by Julia's body. I will walk through hell itself, before I let that happen to us."

Katniss sighed, "I feel like it's giving up on us as a family."

Peeta turned into her, bringing her face to his, as he kissed her, their lips parted, as tears spilled down her face," No, only the opposite. This is ensuring we someday have the possibility of being together."

Peeta laid his hands on her stomach, as he placed his forehead to hers, their eyelashes whisping against the other, "Katniss I will someday marry you, and all of this will be some distant memory."

Katniss' dark eyes looked into his lighter ones, "I love you, Peeta."

Peeta smiled slightly, although it didn't reach his eyes, "I know."

* * *

**003H**

The light from the sky light flooded into the room, bathing Katniss' bare back in light. The warm sun caused goose bumps to rise from her olive skin. Katniss stuck her tongue out, concentrating on the paintbrush as it skittered and skipped over the plastered wall. She scratched her nose streaking light green paint over her bridge, the faint freckles there now unseen.

She flicks the hairs of the brush sharply, as edges of leaves appear. The silk maternity halter top she has on, bunches a bit as she stands on her tip toes. With the allowance she's given as a spouse to an officer, helped with supplying her new wardrobe. She had initially declined such an offer, happy to resume wearing her mother's old dresses.

However, Gale had reminded her it was important she play the part as a military spouse living in the Capitol. Katniss shifted to one foot, as her stomach crushed into the wall, a large streak of brown paint now melding with the pink top.

Katniss blew her dark hair out of her eyes, the soft curls falling around her body. She had been insulted at first when Gale had suggested she wear her hair differently, something more sophisticated. However she had conceded, knowing he was only trying to help her fit the part. Although she would have given anything to be back in her garden, her tangled dark head of hair lying in Peeta's lap, as he read to her.

It had been three months since she had left the only true home she knew, and moved to the Capitol with Gale. A man she had never known before, who she would have to convincably pretend to love as the father of her child. It was difficult for her not to want to be on the run with Peeta, forget everything and everyone.

Katniss sighed as she dipped her brush into the green paint, droplets falling like rain to the plastic covering the floor. It disturbed her how much the paint resembled blood, as she was reminded of how much her memories from the farm haunt her. She shook her head, as the brush made contact with the wall, another makeshift leaf forming.

A low whistle from the door, jarred her from her deep concentration. Gale stood in the doorway, his arms crossed as he leaned against the doorway. The buttons of his shirt bunched against his toned arms, his olive skin a contrast against the dark blue material. His hair was slicked back, dark much like hers, and it was curious to her how much he was the exact opposite of Peeta.

Gale was kind, but he had a damaged side to him, something she could easily relate to. A small smile reached his lips as he walked into the nursery, his eyes scanning the place.

"Not bad. I can't believe you did all of this in one day."

Katniss stilled the brush as she turned her head around to admire the room. The carpet was brown, and Katniss had laid down on the soft fibers, when she had first entered the room, which would belong to her child. It reminded her of the soft dirt beside her garden, and in the moment she decided she would make the room into a forest.

The windows were adorned with light blue curtains to represent the wind, as she painted a mural of trees and light onto the walls. She would bring her child into the only place she ever felt safe. The only place she had a life with its father, the place where she was truly whole. Katniss turned back to the wall, as she nodded with approval.

"Every Everdeen has loved the forest and the little one will be no exception."

Gale stepped toward her, "You mean Hawthorne."

Katniss looked down to her paint smeared toes," Yes, right. I keep forgetting."

Gale approached her, his body inches from hers, as he looked to her profile," You have to be more careful, about it. It's fine here in our home, but what would happen if we're out in public?"

Katniss threw the brush into the paint, the silver brush sinking into the green sea. She turned into him, surprised by how close he was.

"This isn't easy for me. Marrying a man I don't know or love, and having to convince the rest of the world I do. I'm doing my best."

Gale reaches his hand up to her face, holding it gently," I know. I just want you," he released one hand from her face to lie on her stomach," and this child to be safe."

Katniss felt uneasy under his stare, his dark eyes burning into her. The glint of light caught her eye, as she looked to Gale's wedding ring, the gold standing out from his dark skin. Katniss backed up, as his hands were forced to leave her body.

His face fell for a minute; she could have swore he looked embarrassed from his forwardness. They stood there in silence, neither one wanting to acknowledge the other, as Katniss fiddled with her own ring, one which resembled Gale's. It had been three months since she had married the man, giving her child a name.

She had only arrived in the Capitol a few days prior before she was standing in front of a mirror, dressed in white, her dark hair smoothed back into a tight bun. Apparently, there was a special prep team, who dealt with the weddings of officers to codes. She had been concerned being pregnant when she and Gale married, but it was pointed out to her, how this was a normal occurrence in the Capitol when it came to Capitol officers marrying an inferior.

It was after all the only way most inferior women married a Capitol soldier, by being with child. Katniss had a suspicion, not all the unions, conception included, were entirely willing on the female codes part.

There she stood, the gauzy soft fabric hung loosely around her stomach, as long sleeves stopped at her fingers. She looked nothing like herself; her face was covered in makeup, and small pearl clip on earrings, sat at her lobes.

The room was cool from the air pushing out of the vents; she shivered not quite sure from what. Katniss held her arms out, the fabric waving slightly, as she studied her appearance thoroughly.

She sighed a pout on her lips," Is this really what brides are supposed to look like? Like an over exaggerated harlot, with far too much rouge?"

"Personally, I always loved the muddy hunting boots. They suit you so much more than this gaudy dress."

Katniss whirled around, almost knocking the full length mirror over, as her hands griped the sides. She steadied the mirror, watching the hooded man standing at the door. A strong hand withdrew the hood, showing Katniss sparkling blue eyes wrinkling in a smile.

His hair brushed against his jaw bone, the facial hair there starting to thicken into a beard. Katniss rushed to him as he too closed the gap between their two bodies. Peeta's lips found hers before her feet had the opportunity to stop, her body colliding with his. His lips were hungry on hers, and her body went limp as he forced her mouth open with his tongue.

Katniss merely melted against his broad chest, her arms hanging loosely around his shoulders. She dug her nails into his shoulders, the fabric of his jacket wrinkled under hands, as the threads caught under her nails. He held onto her back, gripping her tight, as if she would melt away. Katniss' lips started to ach from the pressure of his, and she was certain where this kind of passion led them.

With reluctant hands, she pushed him away, a moan coming from his swollen lips from the loss of contact. Peeta breathed shallow as he looked at the woman before him, her dress was slightly wrinkled from his touches, and her dark hair had come out of the bun a bit, as a few strands surrounded her face.

Peeta ran his trembling hand through his blonde hair," I may have gotten a little carried away."

Katniss tried to smile but faltered as the gravity of the situation hit her," What are you doing here? You can't be here. There are military personnel everywhere."

Peeta reached out for her face, his hand landing on her cheek," I wanted to see you before you married another man."

"This was your idea."

Peeta flinched back, as he turned his back to her," I know!," he turned back to her slowly, his face pained," It doesn't make it hurt less."

Katniss walked to him, the dress catching on her bare feet, as she gripped his wrists forcing him to face her. Peeta's eyes were solemn as she searched his face.

"I could never love anyone but you. This isn't really a marriage to me. It's a means to an end. To ensure this child has their best chance. You are the only man I want to spend the rest of my life with. Only you."

Peeta nodded, his face pale," Alright."

Peeta had left shortly after; she assumed he had watched the ceremony from a nearby building. Katniss had wanted to search for him, seek out the deep blue eyes she knew were watching her, but she knew the danger she would be inviting. Instead she had kept her eyes on Gale, as he stood tall in this official uniform. She had been dreading the kiss, however he was respectful and tight lipped about it, his apologetic eyes met hers when they parted.

The reception had been intense and strange with people she had never met coming up to her as if they had known her forever. Shortly after they had been assigned to a quaint apartment, which was set aside for officers with families.

Katniss had kept her distance from Gale, not wanting to give him the wrong impression. However, after getting to know him, she came to recognize why Peeta trusted him. He was loyal, brave and he had strength in him, she respected, although even knowing the kind of man he was, she still felt confused and uneasy when things would become intense between them.

Katniss rubbed her nose, as she reached for another brush, keeping her attention on the wall. Gale wringed his hands, watching her closely, as his mouth open and then immediately closed. He stepped closer to her, his face inches from hers.

"These past months have meant something to me. I consider you someone I care about. I want to be entirely honest with you, when I tell you I don't think it's a good idea to have Peeta around the child."

Katniss nearly dropped her brush, her face masked with confusion and anger," What?"

"He's a liability Katniss. We both know what will happen to any of us if Snow knows his involvement with you and this child."

"I'm not going to get into this with you Gale. Not now."

Gale sighed," Why not? It needs to be talked about before the baby arrives."

Katniss doubled over, holding her sides, the paint brush falling from her hand, as it clattered onto the plastic. Gale bent down with her, trying to steady her, as she rocked to the side slightly.

"Because you ass, I think I'm going into labor."

Katniss dug her nails into his lean arms, as another wave of pain rushes through her body. A strangled cry filtered out of her mouth, as everything went incredibly blurry. All she could feel was searing pain and a desperate need to have Peeta being the one to hold her up.

* * *

Gale held her hand as she writhed in pain, her voice hoarse already from the screaming. He wanted to sooth her pain, comfort her somehow. He knew he wasn't the man she wanted by her side at this time or any other. However, he had been charmed by this incredible woman, and he had the feeling he was falling for her.

Gale was certain she would never share his affections, her heart belonged to Peeta no matter how doomed their love was, and so Gale didn't see it necessary to push the issue.

He winched when she once again dug her nails into his hand as another wave of contractions took over. It had been nearly two hours since she had doubled over in the nursery. He had gathered her up, carrying her fragile body to the back wall, where a safe room had been built, unknowing to the Capitol. Peeta had sent in an associate of his, a lean pale man with thick rimmed glasses.

He had a strange way about him, as he walked the house tapping his pointer finger to his thin lips. Gale had noticed how he seemed to talk in circles, convinced every ones understanding of electronics and algebra was as advanced as his. Gale had also noticed the bare code marking on his arm, signifying he had lived in the camps, which was equally puzzling to him, seeing most codes could barely read and write, disregard the fact this man seemed to easily pass genius level.

It had taken nearly the next three months to construct it, seeing it was only safe to work on it during the night. Luckily, the housing development only had Gale and Katniss as tenants, helping to ensure no nosy neighbors to speculate of the noses coming out of the Hawthorne home. It would initially be used as room for Katniss to give birth in, to later be used as a hiding place for her and the child if their affiliation to Peeta and the resistance ever became public knowledge.

The lanky man who after several meetings finally introduced himself as Beetee, had installed an alert system connected to a button, which would notify Peeta if he was needed. Gale had pressed it as soon as he was able to set Katniss on the bed in the center of the room. He had sealed them in the room, unlocking the adjoining door which led to a tunnel.

He was smoothing her dark hair back from her sweaty forehead, when the door opened, still holding her hand, he stood up his hand rising as the gun, he had left in the safe room pointed toward the movement.

A petite girl dark skinned girl, with bright eyes walked into the room, a heavy satchel draped over her chest. She held the door as a young man similar in coloring to her, walked through, his wide shoulders barely fitting through the slender door frame. The boy towered over the girl, his golden flecked eyes narrowing at Gale and the weapon he possessed.

"You wanna get rid of the piece before you get hurt, hoss?"

Gale nodded holstering the weapon, as he followed the girl with his eyes as she walked toward Katniss. Her eyes smiled as she ran her hand over the laboring woman's cheek.

"I may be misinformed, but having a gun around a new born may not be the safest thing."

Gale's free hand went directly to the gun at his hip," Umm, sorry. I couldn't be too sure."

The dark haired girl kept her eyes on Katniss," I understand," the girl stood up her height barely reaching the midway point of most of the shelves, as she pulled the strap over her head," but now we really need to get to work. There's no telling how much time was wasted waiting on us."

Gale sat down next to the bed, as Katniss lifted her body the contractions taking over," What took so long?"

The boy went around the room, positioning everything she would need to deliver the baby," We had to duck a few Keeper patrols, they don't like us code folk so much," the boy have Gale a snarky grin, as he looked to the girl the smile fading," Rue, do you want the IV stand to her right?"

Rue nodded her dark head of curls bouncy, "Yes, Thresh. Go ahead and move the table here so I can have easy access to my tools."

Gale shook his head," Wait! You're going to deliver the baby? What are you ten?"

Thresh's head whipped up from his task, "Watch it buddy."

Gale kept eyes locked with Thresh, as Rue settled into the stool at the foot of Katniss' bed," I'm almost fourteen, if it's so important for you to know. However seeing how this woman is in the midst of labor, and I was sent here to do a job. I would appreciate if you kept the questions until after the delivery."

Thresh walked over to Rue, organizing the tools she may need to use," In other words, shut it."

Rue looked to Thresh, ignoring his exchange with Gale, as she pointed toward Katniss," I need you two to move her down towards me so I can check the cervix to see how dilated she is," Rue lifted herself from her seat to look over Katniss," I see her water has already broken."

Gale let go of Katniss' hand as he and Thresh positioned their arms under hers to pull her down the bed, as she moaned in pain. Thresh placed the pillow at her head, as he lifted the front of the bed, elevated her head. Rue pointed to a stack of linens, as Thresh opened it, the cotton fabrics gliding in the air as it landed over Katniss lower half.

Rue slipped on the surgical gloves Thresh had placed with the other tools on the table. She reached for the scissors; Thresh had placed there, pulling the sheet over her head. Gale watched Katniss reflex in pain, as Rue hand dropped the cut remains of Katniss' pants and underwear on the floor. Rue came out from under the sheet quickly, her face serious.

"She dilated to an eight, which means she's in transition. She doesn't have long. Thresh I need you to go ahead and get her IV in."

Katniss hissed as she struggled through the present contraction," No! I can't have this baby without Peeta. I-WILL-NOT!

Thresh bent down, his form setting her in his shadow," Sweets, he's coming, but the best you can do now is let Rue bird do her job, and have this here baby."

Tears poured from Katniss' gray eyes, as she nodded," Ok."

Gale replaced Thresh's place, as he went back to work, reaching for Katniss' arm as he began to insert her IV. Gale pointed to the linens, catching Thresh's eyes, as he tossed him a small washcloth. Gale nodded him a thanks, as he directed his attention back to the girl beneath him.

Gale whipped the sweat from her forehead, as she shut her eyes tightly riding the wave of the contractions," I'm here for you Katniss. I'm not going anywhere."

Katniss opened her eyes to the dark haired man, "I know."

Movement by the door, alerted everyone in the room, as the door shut with a thud. Peeta stood there breathing hard, his hood halfway down his head, his blonde hair falling around his face.

Katniss' face relaxed for the first time," Peeta."

Peeta smiled walking over to her, standing beside Gale," So, looks like we're having a baby."

Katniss smiled through tears and sweat," I hope so or all of this is for nothing."

Peeta laughed as he looked to Gale," I got it from here, Gale."

Gale nodded as he stood up, walking around Peeta, as he made his way to the door leading to the tunnel. Peeta ran his hand over her forehead, as he studied her face. Gale was nearly to the door, when Katniss called his name, causing him to turn around.

"Thank you, Gale."

Gale cracked a thin smile," Sure."

Peeta kept his eyes on Katniss as his shoulders tensed, while Gale opened the door taking his place in the tunnel to wait on the outside. Peeta cupped her cupped, as she moaned through another wave.

"You are so beautiful."

Thresh cleared his throat from the other side," Boss, I know how you love to do the talky thing, but we got to get this baby delivered."

Peeta smirked as he lifted Katniss' upper body up, to position his body behind hers. He swung his legs over, as Thresh held the IV tubing above their heads. Peeta places his hands on her shoulders as he pulls her to his chest, helping her to settle into him. He bends down to her ear, his warm breath mixing with her sweat drenched skin.

"Let's have this baby, shall we?"

Katniss nods, his hands find hers, as another contraction nearly knocks her over. Peeta lays his cheek onto the top of her head, bracing her.

Rue looks up to Katniss, her golden eyes warm," Alright Katniss, you're at ten centimeters. It's time to push."

Peeta lowers his head to her ear, his hair tickling her face," This is it, baby. You can do it."

Rue lifted up the sheet, her hands in place to greet the infant," Ok, Katniss. Push!"

Katniss squeezed Peeta's hands as she gritted her teeth,"AAHHH!"

Rue lowered her head, as she scooted closer to the end of the bed," Alright, just a few more."

Katniss shut her eyes, the blood running to her face," AAAAHHHHHHHH!"

Rue nodded towards Thresh signaling for him to retrieve a baby blanket from the pile of linens," I see the head, and there's the shoulders. Katniss I need you to push one more time."

Katniss leaned her head back," I can't. I don't have anything left."

Peeta's breath was warm on her face, as the fever of pushing burnt her cheeks, his voice soft," You can do anything. And I know beyond a doubt you can bring our child into this world."

Katniss nodded as she bore down, pushing one more time," AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Peeta looked to Rue, as she nodded to him, a wide smile coming over her face. Before he could ask her about his child, a strong cry rung out, as both Peeta and Katniss began to weep. Thresh bent down cleaning the crying infant with warm water, as he washed the fluids from his tiny body. Thresh backed up when he was sure most of the bodily residue was washed away. Katniss held her arms out toward Rue, as she walked to the couple on the bed, swaddling the bawling infant.

Rue sighed, looking down at the baby," He has a light in him. I can tell."

Rue placed the child into his mother's arm gently, Katniss kept her eyes on the baby," Him?"

"Yes. You have a healthy baby boy."

Katniss pulled the blanket from his face," Thank you."

Rue nodded, as she pulled Thresh from the room, giving the couple private time with their child. Peeta looked up from the two in his arms to nod a thank you to the two retreating forms. The door closed with a resounding thud, while Peeta and Katniss were entirely engrossed with the newborn before them. Katniss studied her son's face, his cheeks round and rosy.

He had finally stopped crying deciding to suck on his chubby fist instead. Peeta enveloped his hand over his son's, tears started to run down his face. Katniss settled into him, a sense of content washing over her body.

Katniss laughed as she ran her fingers through the baby's dark hair," He has the Everdeen hair for sure."

Peeta sighed," He's beautiful like his mother."

Katniss studied the baby's face, as he fell into a deep sleep," He's already sleeping?"

"Being born is hard work."

Katniss laughed again, her body vibrating Peeta's," Yh? Try being the one pushing a human being from your vagina."

Peeta laughed," No, I'm good," he sighed watching his son, "What should we call him?"

"I don't know. Why don't you name him?"

"Brenton. It means fire. Something I want for him. I want him to have the strength of his mother, to have her fire."

Katniss leaned into Peeta, as he kissed the top of her tangled hair," Brenton it is then. Brenton Mellark."

Peeta's face fell, " Hawthorne. It's Hawthorne."

Katniss shook her head, as the baby opened his eyes," No, with eyes like those he's definitely a Mellark."

Peeta buried his face in her hair," Yes, he is."

* * *

Peeta held his son in his arms, as he rocked him through the nursery. He had finally convinced Katniss she needed to rest, after such an exhausting day. She had showered, and was now in the other room succumbing to the exhaustion. As he was helping her into the shower he noticed her body was covered in paint. Her toes especially were speckled in green spots, her olive skin setting the color off.

He had been sitting at her bed side, holding Brenton as his curiosity got the best of him. Holding onto his son tightly he ventured into the now dark room, flipping the light switch. His breath almost caught in his throat, walking into the middle of the room. A colorful mural covered every inch of the walls, trees were the main focus with streaks of bright colors, greens, pinks, blues, and mostly oranges danced in unison.

Peeta smiled, she had created a forest for their child. Brenton like his mother was now a child of the woods, a hunter, and a fighter.

Peeta looked down to his son, his dark hair shined even in the false light, which contrasted to his dark complexion, something he had inherited from his mother of course. Peeta allowed himself to imagine what his son would be_. _

_Would he be a baker? Or a painter like he was?_

Peeta's mind raced as he looked into the face of the purest soul he had ever seen. This must have been what he father meant, when talked of a fathers love. When he had first seen her swollen belly, it was so surreal for him to imagine himself as a father, but now in this moment holding the tiny person in his strong arms, he understood everything his father had done for him and his brothers.

The love a parent has for a child is an impossible love, something better than the dreams you thought you had for yourself.

Peeta was lost in memorizing the lines of the baby's face when a knock at the door frame, startled him. He spun around, gently rocking his son, as he came eye to eye with Gale. His arms were crossed over his chest, as he looked away from father and son to point at the carpet.

"I picked up the plastic and got rid of the paint cans," Gale admired the walls from his place at the threshold," Katniss made it her mission to fix the nursery up like the woods. She said it's the only place she feels safe."

Peeta nodded," It is," he rocked his son taking him over to his crib to lie him down gently, not wanting to disturb the infant," Do you two talk a lot?"

Gale nodded," Sometimes. There's not a lot to do. It's not like I have many options when it comes to my wife who is actually in love with another man and about to bare his child."

Peeta gripped the top of the crib, trying to subside the tinge of jealousy rising inside of him," True."

Gale let out a sharp laugh," When we were kids this is not how I pictured we would be. I'm in the Capitol military, married to a woman who will never love me back, and you the golden boy protégé, a criminal."

Peeta turned around, his knuckles white as he squeezed his fists shut," I have a feeling this isn't going to be a civil chat between old friends."

Gale uncrossed his arms as he walked further into the room," It can be. We can stop pretending to be little boys and be men."

Peeta nodded trying to come off as indifferent," Well as long as were not pretending, don't assume for a second I don't know how you feel about her."

"Who?"

Peeta held his hands up," Don't play dumb with me Gale. I'm talking about Katniss. I saw how you were with her, when I first came in. It's not like you tried to hide it."

"I've had to play it up for everyone, convincing them we're a real couple."

Peeta closed the gap between them, their bodies a few feet apart," You love her."

"What's the point, Peeta? It's not as if she would ever feel the same way."

"The point is you have feelings for my-"

"For your what, Peeta? Girlfriend? Mother of your child? What?"

Anger ran through Peeta's body, his body tense causing his shoulders to cramp. He kept his place, as Gale returned his stare.

The dark haired man cleared his throat," What Katniss is to you isn't really the issue. It's… you don't belong here anymore Peeta. You made your decisions, you made your choice, and you have to live with them. And you should leave and not come back."

Peeta shook his head," I don't accept that."

"You need to. What, so you're going to be Brenton's estranged uncle, who comes around once a year? What about this, he knows you're his father, and he's in school when the topic of you comes along, and he announces to everyone in the Capitol he's your son? You and I both know what they would do to him. If he's not immediately killed, he would be sent to a hoarding house and then a camp. Just by being in his life, you'll be putting him in danger."

Peeta dropped his head, his voice low," I'm his father."

"Be his father and do what's best for him. I'll take care of him like he was my own. You're still my best friend, even if we both will never be those kids you met on the playground again."

Peeta nodded, his head still bowed," It doesn't seem like almost a year, since we were walking through the square talking about how you banged Undersee."

Gale kept his stare on Peeta's blonde head," A lot of things changed."

Peeta lifted his head slowly, looking Gale in the eyes," Including us."

"Especially us. We're not kids anymore, and now there's a child we need to put first. Do what's best for Brenton."

"I'm his father. I'm what's best for him."

"You're a fugitive. You've killed Capitol personal. You're damn face is all over the city, and I bet there's circulation for bounty all through the districts. Choosing to have a family while you take part in the resistance is selfish. Look at what happened with your father, and Katniss' family."

Peeta tightened his lips, inching his body centimeters from Gale's, his eyes filled with fury," You talk about how I'm different? Say one more ill will thing about my father or Katniss' and I will feed you your tongue. I'm a murderer remember?"

Gale matched Peeta's stare," You're really going to get into it with me, with your infant son feet away? Is this who you've become?"

Peeta's eyes falter, as he takes a step back, his face cloudy," No. I- you're asking me to walk away from the best thing, which has ever happened to me?"

Gale tilts his head to the side, a sigh escaping his lips," I'm asking you to protect it."

Peeta turned halfway, facing Brenton's crib as he moved his hand over his face, "I don't know if I can let go."

"I can't tell Katniss what to do when it comes to you, but I have to try to protect Brenton."

"From me?"

"From your life."

"Fine. I get the fact you're risking your own well being to protect my son, and the logical part of me would even agree with what you're saying. Hell, if I were you I may even be doing the same thing, but as the one you're telling to completely move on from what I love most, all I want to do is hate you. Because now in this moment and many others you're not the brazen kid who saved me from getting my ass kicked, you're just the son of a bitch who's taking my life in my son's life."

Gale sighed, as he watched Peeta walk over to the crib," There's a bag in the hallway; it has all the documents you'll need when you go to the filing office. It has all the signatures from hospital personal, saying Brenton was born in the Capitol maternity wing. It's stamped with the seal and has the underlying color imprint. No one will be able to tell it's not legit. You shouldn't have any trouble getting a birth slip."

Gale nodded," Alright."

Peeta gripped the side of the crib," You need to go so I can say goodbye to my son."

Gale mutely bowed his head as he turned to walk out of the nursery leaving father and son alone. Peeta listened for the door to shut before, he allowed himself to look down at his child. Peeta reached down tracing the baby's outstretched arms; he looked as if he was a bird in midflight. Peeta smiled, while he ran the tips of his fingers over his son's soft dark hair.

His cheeks were round; although even as a newborn he already had a strong bone structure. Brenton's chest rose and fell deeply as his breathing filled the room; the silence broke by only the sounds of Peeta's son's will to live.

Peeta's vision began to blur, as he looked up to the wall baring his fists into his eyes. His shoulders wracked with a shuddering breath as tears struggled to come from his body. He released a strangled breath from his mouth, as his body eased.

Peeta lowered his head to take in the sight of his child, as he enveloped his fist over the fragile one in the crib," When I found out you existed, I couldn't stop imagining what kind of father I would be. It seemed natural because I was blessed with an incredible father; I only hoped I could live up to everything he was. But Gale's right, who I am, can only hurt you. I can have it all, my father tried and he lost his life because of it, along with two of his sons. I want to stay, but I've chosen my path, and it's not here. I know someday you'll hate me, but I'm willing to take on this burden to keep you safe. I love you son."

Peeta bent over the side of the crib, placing a kiss on Brenton's forehead, his long blonde hair tickling the child's face causing him to stir. Peeta took in his son's face one last time, before he swallowed his tears, standing up. He ran his hand through his hair, while he walked to the door, pausing for a minute. Peeta laid his head against the door, his heavy breathing mingling with his son's.

The tears threatened to crawl back up his throat, as Peeta dug his nails into his closed fists. Peeta sighed, a coughing of tears rushing out, causing him to swallow hard.

His voice came out as a whisper, a silent prayer from father to son," Be strong son. Be courageous, and thoughtful. Be better than your father."

Peeta didn't swear to look back as he reached for the door knob, opening the door to the hallway. He lingered for only a few seconds, listening to his son's breathing, before he stepped into the hall closing his lifeline to his only child forever.

* * *

Katniss bent down reaching for the colorful block, as the rest tumbled from her arms to the ground. She shook her head, a sharp swear escaping her lips. As if on cue, a string of giggles came from under the bed, slightly muffled from the down cast of the comforter. Katniss kneeled down, steadying herself with her hands, as she crouched down.

She could still hear laughing, as she brought the side of the blanket up to rest on the top of the mattress. She couldn't help smiling at the squirming child, as he folded his arms over the top of his head. His face was buried into the carpet as he kicked his legs out toward the nearest wall. His dark hair moved and folded over his arms, as his body wracked with laughter. Katniss reached under the bed, tickling his sides.

"Someone is having a giggle fit."

He kept his face to the carpet, as he shook his head, more dark hair falling over his arms," Nuh, uh!"

Katniss tickled him even more so, causing him to roll to his back, bright blue eyes shining," Yes, you are."

A tiny finger poked her nose playfully;" You said a no-no word."

Katniss laughed, nodding her head," Yes, I did. And mommy shouldn't have, but Brenton is supposed to pickup his toys. Isn't he?"

Brenton covered his eyes with his paint stained hands," Brenton isn't here, he gone."

Katniss' body ached from laughing at her son, she reached for his hands peeling them from his round face," Oh look there he is! I found him!," Brenton giggled as he rocked from side to side his back picking up stray strings from the carpet," And you also know to wash your hands after using the paints."

"Mommy I like them painted. It's like a rainbow I can touch."

Katniss lied on her stomach, scooting closer her head pressing against the doorframe," You're mommy's rainbow. The promise of good things."

Brenton rolled on his stomach, his dark hair falling around his face, chubby stained hands placed on her cheeks," You silly, mommy!"

His blue eyes searched her face, a toothy grin gracing his face," Bye, mommy!"

Katniss watched her son slip from under his bed, his little legs getting caught on the part of the comforter which was still down. Katniss sat up helping him up as he ran from the room into the hallway which led to the bathroom. She ran her hands through her wavy dark hair, as she used the edge of the bed to help her up.

She scooted the blocks over the carpet with her feet, before they settled beside Brenton's toy box. She looked to the walls, the painted trees had faded a bit from the sunlight casted down from the sky light. It had been three years since Brenton was born, and she was amazed how she had been able to survive without the little boy in her life. Although there were times when his bright blue eyes would look to her, and she would have to inhale a sharp breath, taken back by how much he looked like his father.

Even at three, her son reminded her of Peeta, the way he would hold the paints in his tiny palms, and gently stretch his fingers over the paper. He also had this way of silently being in a room, without even moving and still he commanded the attention of everyone around him. Brenton shared many traits with his father, and this frightened her.

_What if the wrong person noticed? _

Gale had been appointed a command position, and it was beginning to be more frequent when Capitol officials were in conference with him, asking about his young son and wife. The meeting were an everyday occurrence, due to the unrelenting trouble the resistance, and its leader, were presenting. Peeta had gone from a nuisance for the Capitol to a fully fledged enemy.

It was difficult to go anywhere in the city without seeing the bulletins out for Peeta's arrest and inevitable death. She had to hold back her fear, not wanting to give anyone the least bit inkling she was connected to the resistance leader in any way. If she failed it would mean certain death for her and an even worse fate for her son.

Katniss sighed, walking out of her son's room to the adjacent bathroom, where the sound of running water filled the hallway. She stopped in the doorway leaning against the door frame, as she watched his tiny hands filling up with water, as his chubby fingers cupped the liquid. He kept his attention on the water, as he laughed his fingers falling apart to emerge his hands in the bit of water collecting at the bottom of the sink. She felt guilty as she watched him look at the water with wonder. She was going to leave for one of her _meetings_.

It was only twice a year, but each time she felt farther away from her son. She tried to clear her head as she reached around the door frame, reaching for the hand towel looped into the holder mounted on the wall. She stepped into the bathroom, turning the facet handle close, earning a pout from her son.

"I was feeling the water."

Katniss shook her head, her dark curls brushing past her shoulders," Yes, well I think you're done."

Brenton held his wet hands up for his mother, as she dried them his dark head of hair dropping back as he hummed a song. The paint had embedded underneath his nails, but she was already late as it was and Gale was to be home soon.

When she done, Katniss picked him up from his stepping stool, and setting him down on the ground. She tossed the towel on the counter of the sink, as she heard the opening of the door. Her stomach stilled dropped at the sound, unaware of who was entering her home. Brenton's eyes widen as he ran out of the room, Katniss tried to reach for him, before he left her side. She rushed out of the bathroom, to see her _husband _kneeling down to catch Brenton as he hurled his body at the man's.

Gale caught the toddler, enveloping him in his arms as he swung him around the living room. Her son's arms held tight as he giggled, his legs flying out into the open space.

Brenton's loud voice rung out," Zoom, zoom, daddy! Zoom, zoom!"

Gale's dark eyes laughed," We are zoom zooming, Bren."

Brenton pulled back, his arms still around Gale's neck, his face serious," No, daddy. The way we zoom when mommy's gone."

Katniss folded her arms, as Gale smiled at her, he looked back at Brenton with false seriousness," Remember we don't tell mommy about those zooms."

Brenton nods slowly, as he catches on," Oh, yes. We can't tell girls about being rough, because girls are frable."

Gale laughed," Fragile, son. Fragile."

Katniss walked to them, taking Brenton from Gale's arms," Excuse me," Brenton tried to hold onto Gale as his mother held him in her arms, before setting him down," Go, play in your room, while daddy changes out of his uniform."

Brenton crossed his arms," Daddy did you catch any rebel scums today?"

Katniss' eyes widen as she looked to Gale, his face just as shocked," Brenton-"

Brenton ignored Gale," Isn't Peeta Mellark a bad man?"

Katniss bent down picking her son up quickly, as she sat him down in his room. He moved over to his toy box, digging through the array of toys. Katniss walked into the hallway, closing the door behind her. Gale had already started to unbutton his dress jacket, as Katniss made her way into the living room. Gale took his jacket off laying it over the chair in front of him. He held his hands up as he noticed her walking to him. He could see the rage in her face, and he was more than afraid to face her wrath.

"He must have heard it from some of my colleagues. I would have never said anything to him about my work."

"He's three; all he wants to be is like you. He has no idea what's really happening."

"And he shouldn't. By not allowing him to know the truth, we're protecting him."

Katniss ran her hand over her face," Protecting? Sometimes it doesn't feel like it."

Gale opened his mouth as he closed the gap between them, Katniss turned away from him, making her way to the bedroom. She walked into the room, passing the bed to enter her walk in closet. She had packed her bag earlier, and it now lied under a rack of winter fur coats, she never wore. Katniss picked up the black satchel, her nails bearing down in to the leather strap.

She passed the full bodied mirror in her closet, only to step back, facing it to examine herself. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders in waves and curls, the dark purple of her silk blouse intertwined with her dark tresses. Her skin was smooth and clear, most of her scars had been smoothed away by the cream she was told to use by a prep team. She hardly recognized the woman in front of her. She had somehow lost the girl she had known, through lies, secrets, and fear.

She turned away from her reflection; it had become difficult to look at herself, on the days she was to go back to the woods. It wasn't the same it had been before, and every time she met him at her family's old home, she felt further away from him, and it almost broke her in two.

Katniss sighed as she exited the closet, she stepped back when she saw Gale undressing by the foot of the bed. She turned away a blush coming over face, as she held up her hand over the side of her face, shielding her eyes.

"Gale, I had no idea you were in here."

Gale chuckled," It's only skin, Katniss. You don't have to make a big deal out of it."

"Well it is a big deal to me, Gale."

"It shouldn't be. We are married."

"We're not married like everyone else."

Gale nodded reaching for the shirt he had draped over the end of the bed," It's hard to forget. Everything we are is a lie."

"The lies keep us all safe. You've been saying it for years."

Gale reached for his jeans tugging them on as he watched Katniss from across the room. He had developed feelings for her long ago, and he would have given anything to have her feel the same. She had started to tap her foot; he could tell she was beginning to become inpatient.

He buttoned his pants, before he folded his arms over his chest, watching her. He debated standing there longer watching her, making her stew in her annoyance. Instead he cleared his throat signaling for her to turn around. Katniss' hair wrapped around the side of her neck as she brushed it away, walking to the door, pass Gale.

When she was at an arm's length to him, he gripped onto her arm, holding her in place. She looked to her arm and then to his face, her eyes puzzled. Gale searched her face, her deep gray eyes looking into his. His hand tightened on her forearm, desperate to keep her with him.

"I don't think you should keep doing this to yourself. He's not the man who knew."

Katniss struggled to tear her arm away,"What do you know about it?"

"I know every time you come back, you're different. Katniss he treats you like a whore. Whatever there was between you two is gone now. All Peeta is has to do with the resistance, he doesn't have room for anything else."

"Why would you say this to me?"

"Because I care about you. I don't want you to get hurt."

"Really? Then you should have thought about such things before you pushed him away after Brenton was born."

"Katniss-"

"And why is it ok for you to conspire with him against the Capitol, but it's far too dangerous for me to meet with him in secret twice a year?"

"Because I'm not going to lose myself in him. I know you love him, almost as much as you love your son. And I can't fault you for wanting to have a part of him close to you, but a lot has happened to him over these three years. He's not the same, and he may never be."

Katniss pushed Gale back with her free hand, causing him to release her," I can't let go."

"Then it may kill us all."

Katniss looked away from him, as she smoothed her hair down, "Make sure Brenton gets to bed at a decent hour. I'll be back tomorrow."

Gale watched her leave the room, his body shaking, as she shut the door behind her. She walked down the hall, to the door of Brenton's bedroom.

She opened the door slowly, as she found him lying on the floor, his legs swinging into the air, as he built a tower from blocks. She walked over to him, bending down to kiss him on top of his head. He seemed too engulfed in his present actions to look up. Katniss ran her hand through the bottom of his dark hair.

"Bye, baby. I'll be back soon."

"Are you going to visit your friend again?"

"Yes."

"Oh, good friends are nice, and I think you need a friend."

Katniss tilted her head," Why?"

"Because you look sad."

Katniss face fell as she said goodbye to her son once more and walked to the front door. She looked back to the home she had been sharing with Gale and her son for years now. She couldn't help but feel split in two, dedicated to two separate lives. Incomplete in both.

* * *

Peeta stood beside the tree, looking towards the front of the cabin. He had seen her past the window numerous times, he was positive she hadn't seen him. It was already dark and the moon wasn't yet full. He wasn't sure how long he had been standing there watching, as the cool wind beat at his back. It had been almost four since they had been having their _meetings_.

They would both come to the cabin, the only safe place either of them knew, and they would connect if only for a few hours. The first few times he couldn't get to her soon enough, however the last few times he had to will himself to be near her. He wasn't the man she had fell in love with and he was petrified she would figure it out someday.

The closer he became to the resistance to his mission, the farther away he drifted from her. So, instead of facing the matter at hand, instead of being with the one person who truly ever saw him, he was stalking outside of her family's home.

Peeta ran both his hands over his face, his vision was blurry and his bad leg was starting to ache. The wound from being stab above his knee was still healing and the soreness only persisted with long periods of standing.

Peeta swallowed any self doubt as he walked pass the trees, to advance up the porch steps. When he reached the door, he leaned his forehead against the wooden door. He wished more than anything, to believe there was a way back from the depths he was lost in.

A slither of hope, which made it probable for him to be the kind of man, who had a wife and, who could raise a child. Although he knew he had wasted his chance, and the only option he had was to lose himself in the woman beyond the door. She was waiting for him, and he put all of his rage, confusion, and fear into her.

Peeta breathed in deep, as he opened the door, the wood creaking, alerting her of his arrival. The only light was from the fire stove, which illuminated her dark hair. She turned around a smile on her face, her deep gray eyes shining. Peeta had to take in another breathe as she walked towards him, she seemed to become even more beautiful each time he saw her.

He pushed his feelings down into his body, he didn't need to feel those types of things, what he needed was to her skin on his, her sweat mingling with his, and the pressure of her mouth on his body. She began to open her mouth to speak, as he closed the gap between their bodies.

His mouth crushed onto hers, as his hands found their way into her hair. Peeta tangled his fingers into the dark strands, as she moaned into his mouth her tongue applying pressure back onto his.

Katniss snaked her arms around his neck, her own hands finding solace in his long blonde hair. Her lips were already swollen as Peeta sucked and nipped at the skin of her mouth. His kisses were more ravenous than usual, and she willing to get lost in his rough touches as he tugged at her hair. Peeta pulled her head back to expose her neck as he traced his tongue from her mouth down to her jaw and to finally end at the soft flesh of her throat.

Katniss body went limp, as Peeta released his left hand from her curls to travel down her spine to end at the small of her back to steady her. Her hands shook in his hair, as the sensations of his mouth on her skin sent shivers down her body to settle below her abdomen.

Peeta's mouth traveled back to hers, as he pulled her head forward, his tongue once again pushing against her lips for entrance. Katniss moved her fingers down his hair, finally landing her hands on his broad shoulders. Her nails scrapped against the material of his shirt there. Peeta attacked her mouth as Katniss reciprocated just as much pressure and passion.

Peeta's hands traveled to her chest, fingers burying themselves between the fabric and buttons. He needed to feel all of her skin on his, he needed to feel her against him, and their clothing was a misfortunate barrier. Peeta pulled the fabric open, the sound of tearing caused Katniss to drop back as her nimble fingers unbuttoned her blouse.

Peeta kept his gaze on her chest, as soon as the top buttons were undone; he pulled the rest of the shirt open. Katniss fisted the material of his own shirt tightly, as she looked into his eyes, neither one dared to say a word.

Peeta flattened his hands over her bra clad breasts, the black lace tickling the soft skin there, as he pressed the fabric against her. Katniss took in a sharp breath as he stared at her, she afraid to move, her skin began to heat up from his heavy breathing. Peeta moved his right hand down below her breast, having it travel over her bare stomach and to rest at the hook of her slacks. He wasted no time undoing the metal and fabric before pushing them down with one hand.

He backed up from her, his hand still on her chest, as her arms outstretched. Katniss searched his face, but it was stoic and unreadable, as he looked down at her, his hand at her waist hooking their fingers into her lace underwear. Peeta pushed them down mid thigh, before he brought his boot clad foot up to push her panties down all the way.

His eyes traveled up her body to finally settle on her eyes. He swallowed hard, as he pushed the fabric from her shoulders, making it pool at her feet next to her discarded underwear.

Katniss' fingers traveled over his muscular chest to knot themselves in the hem of his shirt, gradually pulling it up his chest, Peeta growled in frustration as he covered her hands with his and quickly pulled the shirt over his head. His blonde hair fell over his bare shoulders, as Katniss traced her nails down his arms, to land on his chest.

Peeta crushed his mouth to hers, as he picked her up, wrapping her legs around him. Katniss became dizzy from the contact of his skin and his wet hot mouth on hers. Their chest collided with each others, as he pressed her back up against the wall, causing pictures to clatter to the ground. The breath escaped her lungs as the contact jolted her, all the while Peeta kept kissing her. He held up her body with his, the sweat already glistening their bare skin.

Peeta reached down to his jeans undoing the button and fly there, as they fell to his knees. He stopped kissing her to search her face, while Katniss inched his boxers down with the heels of her feet.

Without warning Peeta entered her, he groaned in response to her heat and tightness. A sigh escaped her lips, as Peeta planted his hands flat against her ears, all the while thrusting into her.

Every inch of her body was on fire, her nails scratched as his bare skin, bits of blood presenting underneath her nails. Katniss trembled under his touch; her back ached from repeatable being pushed into the wall. The feeling was numbed by the presence of Peeta's body pressed against her.

She wanted to be worry, her mind kept telling her something was off, but the way he was buried in her core made her want to push the thoughts away. This was panicked and his hands had started to roam her chest with a clumsy fever.

Peeta easily unhooked the front of her bra, the lace falling from her breasts, as he moved his warm mouth from her to find solace at her chest. His right hand returned to its place beside her hair, his pointer finger becoming tangled in her dark strands. The wetness off his lips sent shivers through her, his tongue circled her already peeked nipple.

The pressure he was applying, made her tighten around him, causing him to push in further. Katniss moaned, her head tilting up enough to knock itself against the wall, a bout of dizziness coming over her.

This was more than making love, even more than sex, this was a desperate need to feel alive, to feel anything, and Peeta knew if anyone could make him feel whole again it would be Katniss. He knew he was taking her body hostage, using it to fuel anything possibility to feel normal again. He was lost in the sensations her body was sending through him, but also knew how unfair it was to her, to bring her down to his depths.

She was once courageous and shiny, but now in this moment she was down in the dirt with him, scraping for anything to feel right. Peeta removed his mouth from her bare breasts, the nipples dark pink and swollen from his assault. He looked into her dark eyes searching for anything, resembling love, but most of what he saw was lust and confusion.

Katniss moved her hands up to his shoulders, pushing against him; he nodded as he slipped out of her, helping her feet find the floor.

Katniss walked passed him, as she made her way over to the rocking chair. She picked up the thick quilt, wrapping it around her naked body. The hooks of her bra caught in the loose strings of the blanket, making her reposition the material.

Katniss held her arms over her chest, while watching Peeta bend down to pull up his pants. He kept his back to her, as he leaned against the wall, his arms outstretched with his hands flat. The space between them became quiet, cold, as neither one dared to speak only the sound of their heavy breathing filled the room.

"This isn't us."

Her voice came like a whisper; he almost didn't hear it even in the silent room. Peeta closed his eyes, his blonde hair shielding his face. He could hear Katniss inhale a deep breath, the shakiness in her voice clear.

"We're not these people. I'm not this woman, who you say nothing to before you screw her against a wall. A wall? I will not be like this."

"How would you have us be, Katniss?"

"We loved each other once, Peeta. There was a time when you looked at me, and I saw every part of you. It was like seeing a part of the world I was never allowed to experience. And now I look into your eyes, and all I see is pain and confusion."

Peeta whirled around, his face blank, although his eyes were deep blue, the ocean during a storm," What do you want from me?"

"I want to see you. I want to see the boy I fell in love with."

"He's gone!," he advanced on her grabbing her by the arms, the air went out of the room and all there was, was longing," I don't know how to get him back. You're the only thing resembling the life I once had."

Katniss placed her hands on either side of his face, her eyes frantically searching his face," What happened to you?"

"I can't tell you. It's my burden to bear. I won't drag you into it all."

"But you have. When you treat me like a vessel to fill. Something for all your pain to go into, you make it my burden. You make me a part of it."

Peeta held on tightly to her arms, all the while looking into her tear filled eyes. He wanted so desperately to save her from all the grief, be the man she needed, but he was lost himself, and all he knew now was how to fight.

Not for love, but for a way out, a way to make his enemy feel his pain. Something which had began as pure and just, even though it was still those things, had become what defined him, with its twists, and he feared to save others he had sold his own happiness, his own soul in the process.

"I'm half way, Peeta. Part of me is with our son, and the other is always with you. I have to choose."

"You're choosing him."

It was more than a question; it was a statement as Peeta knew the kind of woman she was. The grace she possessed, the strength she breathed every second of the day.

"I have to. He needs me. I feel like I've been drowning these past years. I haven't been me, and for the first year, it was ok because you still looked at me the same way, and we hadn't yet lost our connection. But after all the Capitol gatherings, and the fittings, and everything else to convince everyone I was this loyal military wife, I lost who I was. I stopped seeing myself, as well. I need to find her again, and our son depends on me to do so."

Peeta released her arms as his hands traveled up to her face," I don't know how to walk away from you. It was hard enough leaving Brenton, if I walk away from you it may break me."

Tears streamed down her face, her breaths coming in as choked sobs," You're already broken, Peeta. I can be the one to walk away. One of us has to be strong enough to do so."

Peeta nodded as his own tears streamed down his face," You were always the strongest of the both of us."

Katniss shook her head, her dark waves sticking to the tears on her face," No, I wasn't. You just never believed in yourself enough to realize it."

"You always did? Believe in me?"

"I still do. Nothing will change how I feel about you. I just think it's time to let go."

Peeta removed his hands from her face as he turned his back to her; Katniss' face missed the warmth of him already. She stood there for a few seconds before she started to gather her clothing, she picked up her bag from where it had been discarded and walked to the next room to change.

Peeta didn't dare watch her, he was too afraid his resolve would fall apart. He knew he had to let her go, even if it was killing him inside. When he heard the door shut he picked up his own clothes, quickly dressing. He walked out of the cabin without a word to her, he needed a clean break. Although he knew he was fooling himself, it was never clean with Katniss.

It was messy and exciting, and real. She was his whole hope, hope his life was meant for more than pain and regret. She held the part of him where the naïve painter from district twelve lived, where the boy who wanted nothing more than for his father to be proud of him, lied. She was the beholder of all those parts of him he kept hidden from everyone else.

Peeta quickly ran through the woods to the border line, where he knew there would be a transpo waiting for him. He needed to get back to base, where the man he was now could carry on his work, where he could pour himself into destroying his enemy. Where he wouldn't have to feel, and know she was safely away from him.

* * *

The colorful blocks tumbled to the floor, collecting in his lap in a heap. His dark hair beginning to grow over his bright blue eyes, swept to one side as he scratched his forehead in frustration. Katniss couldn't help but laugh at her son, as his bottom lip pouched out in annoyance. Brenton's chubby little fingers had been trying in vain to construct a bridge made from his wooden blocks. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he began to stack each one again.

"Mommy I need new blocks. These blocks don't stack."

Katniss reached out to him from her sitting position next to him in his room, to run her fingers through his hair. Brenton ignored her touch, too involved in the task at hand.

"No, maybe Brenton needs to stack them better."

"Naw aw, daddy said I need better blocks."

Katniss tilted her head raising an eyebrow, "Oh he did, did he?"

"What did I do?"

Katniss looked up to see the dark haired man, smiling, as he leaned against the door frame. His face looked more relaxed than it had in awhile. Katniss couldn't help but debate, the reason why he had seemed more at ease for the last month.

It had been a month since she had come home early, from seeing Peeta.

All the lights in the apartment were out, which she assumed because it had been the middle of the night. When she walked through the front door, she was startled when the lap next to the sofa had been turned on. She had absentmindedly reached for the blade she no longer kept on her, ready to protect herself. A deep breath, she wasn't sure she was holding, escaped her lips when she saw Gale sitting next to the lamp, his hand still dangling from the cord.

His face was clouded, and she wasn't quite sure if he had been crying. She walked past the sofa, to enter the hallway leading to her bedroom. Katniss pushed the tall doors open; she walked into the room tossing her satchel against the wall.

She stood there silent, not wanting to breathe or speak, knowing if she did her situation would become reality and she wasn't ready to start living without Peeta just yet. A soft hand landed on her shoulder, she flinched slightly, surprised by the touch.

Katniss turned around to face the dark eyes of the man, who had taken care of her and her son all these years. It would have been so much easier if she had loved him, so much less painful than it was to be in love with Peeta.

However, Gale didn't make her utterly frustrated, or catch her off guard with something genuine. Peeta made her feel and think things no one else could, and she cursed herself for loving him.

Gale slowly placed his hands on each side of her face, as they locked eyes. Katniss tried to hold her resolve, but the way he was looking at her, caused her stomach to knot and the tears started to rush from her eyes.

"I'm not going to see him anymore. It's not the same, and it killing me."

"It shouldn't be so hard to love someone."

"Gale-"

It was as if Katniss was watching it all in slow motion, as he inched his face closer to hers, his lips inches from hers. Many things ran through her mind.

_Was this what she wanted? Could she ever be with another man who wasn't Peeta?_

Katniss started to close her eyes, until she turned her head, pushing Gale's hands away with her own.

"I can't."

"You can't let him go, can you?"

Katniss looked to her feet, as curtains of dark hair shielded her face," No."

Gale had been apologetic for his actions, they both had agreed it was something neither one of them could handle at the moment; however Katniss had a suspicion the caution was more on her end than his. Although, over the last month she had wondered what might have changed if she had allowed Gale to kiss her.

She quickly pushed the though away, knowing she would only be comfortable with one man's lips on hers, and she had said goodbye to him. Gale walked into the room, while Brenton slapped the blocks to one side, frustrated by the lopsided design.

"Bren, I never said anything about getting new blocks. I _said _better blocks would be nice, nothing more."

Katniss reached out tickling Brenton at his sides, as he rolled onto the floor giggling, his pile of blocks forgotten. Gale stepped forward to join in, as a pounding sound came from the front door. Katniss stopped tickling her son as she looked to Gale, he glanced behind him toward the living room before locking eyes with her.

She could see he was worried, as her own face became pale. Gale motioned toward a laughing Brenton, signaling Katniss to pick him up. She gathered Brenton in her arms as she stood up her legs felt like lead. She could hear shouting through the door as Capitol Keepers demanded entrance.

"They're here for him aren't they?"

Gale placed a hand on top of the boys head," No, I don't think so. I think it has to do with me, but it won't matter if they get a hold of you two. You're my family and we know what they do to families."

Gale rushed to Brenton's closet pulling out a small bag; he made his way to Katniss, slipping the strap over her shoulder.

"What is this?"

"I packed a bag for him."

Katniss grabbed him by his arm as he turned to walk away," You knew this would happen, didn't you?"

"I had a feeling," the banging becomes even more persistent," take Brenton to the safe room, I want you to seal yourself in press the alert for the resistance and then take the tunnel out to the outer borders."

Katniss shook her head," No, we're not going without you."

Gale took her arm this time, pulling her out of the room, with Brenton in her arms," GO!"

Katniss gave a look back to him as she ran to the end of the house, where the safe room was located. Brenton had begun to cry in her arms, reaching his arms out behind her. Gale stood in the hallway, watching them venture farther away from him, tears welling in his eyes as the boy he knew as his son cried for him.

When he was sure both Katniss and the boy were safely down the hall, Gale walked to the front door. Katniss could faintly hear his footsteps as she pressed in the code for the room, it opened with a quiet click, as the wall parted. She placed Brenton down on the cot, which stayed there, and pressed the button signaling the resistance there was trouble. She hoped to the spirits, the alarm worked after all these years.

She had left the door slightly open for Gale to follow in after them, allowing her to peek through the slit. She could hear voices shouting and things being thrown away. Keeper's voices rang through the rooms.

"Caption Hawthorne you are accused of treason!"

"Where's your wife and son?"

"How could you help rebellious scum, and betray your post?"

Katniss' heart began to beat faster, as she bared her nails down onto the metal of the room. She glanced back at Brenton who was oblivious to the shouting as he turned a red block over in his hands. Katniss tried to keep her attention on her son, studying his face, thankful he was more focused on the toy than the situation.

Her body shook as a ringing of gun fire filled the rooms. Her breath caught, as everything began to slow down. Katniss walked out of the room a few inches, frozen in step as she saw Gale rounded the corner, his body hunched over. His feet were dragging, and sweat was pouring from his face. He looked up to see Katniss in front of the open door, his eyes panicked.

"What the hell are doing out of the room?"

Katniss ran the extra steps to him, slinging his shoulder over her own," Shut up. It's lucky for you I am."

Gale grunted a response as she helped him inside; the sounds of footsteps were close as she started to close the door, after they were safely inside. The metal was heavy and unrelenting as Katniss used all of her bodily strength to secure the door.

The rickeshaying of bullets made her flinch, as the door beeped signaling its closer. Gale was lying on the floor, his breathing shallow, as Katniss hunched beside him, his body curled in a fetal position. She roamed her hands over his body to find and entry wound.

"Where were you shot?"

His voice came out as a gurgle as blood had already started to fall from his mouth, "The back-I-I-fought them off-I-couldn't-"

Katniss laid a shaky hand on his lips, stilling them," Shhh."

She looked up to her son who had forgotten about the block, and now was watching the only father he knew bleed out onto the floor. She took a deep breath which only got caught in her throat, as she sprung up hitting the button and alerting the others. She reached for the firearm; Gale caught in the safe room, and tucked it in the back of her slacks.

The banging on the other side of the door, made her flinch as she hunched beside her son. She placed her hands gently on his tiny face, turning it to face her. His bright blue eyes had already started to well up with tears and she was afraid of losing it herself.

"Brenton why don't we all play a game?," he nodded his head slowly, she picked him up off of the bed, sure to cover his face from seeing Gale on the floor, and opened the door to the tunnel," I want you to run all the way down to the next door and wait for me there. I want to see how fast you can run."

She sat him down and pushed on his back gently to signal him it was time to start, "Go, sweetie. Run!"

She watched his little legs run through the half lit tunnel, when she was sure he wouldn't look back, Katniss ran over to Gale. His body had started to shake, and a blood pool had started to form around his back.

"Go, Katniss.L-Leave."

She shook her head, reaching for the bag on the floor and sliding it over her head," No, not without you."

She grabbed his free arm, while the other was trapped under his body, she was amazed by how much he weighed when it was dead weight. He groaned, as she got him to his feet, blood smeared the floor and her hands were already covered in it.

His head lolled forward as she got him as straight as she could. Katniss snaked her arm around his back, she could feel the sticky warm liquid form to her body. The banging on the door persisted and the voices only grew louder.

Gale's voice barely was recognizable," Brenton?"

"He's fine. He's waiting for us."

Katniss dragged Gale out of the room, and secured the door when they were both fully in the tunnel. The orange glow from the overhead strung lights, hollowed out the shadows on Gale's face, as his eyes dark eyes started to dim. She knew she had to get him out of there quickly; she reached for the second button on the wall pushing it.

A spark flew out melding the metal into one, causing the entrance of the tunnel and the tunnel itself to be unseen by others. She hurried down the tunnel, his body becoming heavier each second, as the skin on her arm began to become hard and constricted by the output of blood which had started to dry. She wanted to cry, let her fear take over, but she knew allowing her fear to show wasn't going to help the situation.

The tunnel seemed to go on forever, his body had become even more still, the shaking of his body was the only movement coming from him. Katniss knew Gale was dying beside her, and realization was enough to force her legs forward.

She could see a light up ahead as she searched the dark for her son. All of a sudden she could hear his voice, there was someone else with him, and her body froze as the figure came closer.

_The Capitol must have found them, and now they would all die._

She wrapped both arms around Gale limp body, as she dragged him further. She had to get to her child, to at least tell him his mother loved him and everything she had done was to keep him safe, and she regretted the fact she had failed. Katniss stopped, as she reached behind her to where the gun was, her fingers slick from the blood slid a bit until she tighten around the grip. Her breathing quickened as the figure approached them; she could feel her pulse beat into her ears, and all she felt was numb.

Every part of her drained when she saw his blonde hair come into view, and she couldn't help the laugh of relief. His face was grim, and he appeared to have been panting, she assumed from running, as sweat shown off his forehead.

"Peeta!"

Peeta looked to her for a second before he took Gale's other shoulder, and the two of them ran him the rest of the way.

"Are you ok? Where was he shot?"

"Yes! It's in the back!"

Peeta nodded, his hand grabbed a hold of Katniss' arm as they made it through the door of the tunnel, which led into a piece of woods outside the border. Katniss searched for her Brenton, her anxiety taking an all new high.

"Where's Brenton?"

Peeta pointed with his free hand," He's fine. He's over there."

Katniss looked up to him hugging a tree watching them closely. Gale moaned loudly, as Peeta began to set him down to the ground gently. Katniss bent with the two men, she brought Gale's arm over her head, his body laid into the dirt on its side. Peeta ripped the back of his shirt open to look at the wound; he used his fingers to wipe away the blood as more gushed out. Gale's face was already pale, and a mouthful of blood was already present. Peeta sighed, while he dropped his head, his shoulders hunched over.

"There's nothing we can do. It's too late."

Katniss shook her head quickly," No!"

Peeta leaned over Gale's body taking her face in his hands, blood marred her smooth skin," He's dying soon, Katniss. It's over."

Katniss started to sob, her body shaking uncontrollably. Peeta released her face as he looked over to his son, his dark hair falling over his blue eyes. Everything was falling apart around him and all he could do was watch. Rue came running up to him with her medics bag in head, but Peeta only shook his head, she nodded silently watching on.

Peeta pointed to where Brenton watched," Rue, get the kid out of her. Ok?"

Rue nodded as she scooped up Brenton, he held his hands out, his blue eyes filling with tears. Peeta had to hold back his own, as he rolled Gale onto his back. Katniss brought his head to her lap, as she pushed his dark hair from his face. His skin was pale and his dark eyes had sunken, all the while looking up into Katniss' face.

His voice was raspy and barely audible as blood ran from his lips," I could have loved you forever. I do-love you," Katniss tried to keep the tears back and she gasped for breath," You're so beautiful."

Peeta rocked back on his hells as he watched on, he wanted to be jealous and stack his claim but he knew this would be the last time Gale would have to be with Katniss, and he couldn't bring himself to take it from him.

"Where's-Bren-Brenton?"

Peeta leaned in his knees settling into the dirt where the blood had already pooled," He's fine. He's safe."

Gale's eyes shifted to Peeta," I loved him like my own."

Peeta nodded, as his own tears ran down his face," Thank you."

"Don't stop, Peeta. Keep fighting- keep- for-him-"

Peeta covers his face, as Gale's last breath left his body. Katniss sobbed as she moved her fingers over his eyes to close them. Katniss looked off into the space above Peeta's head, hoping any kind of sign would come to assure her this all a dream. However nothing came, the sound she could hear was the man across from her sobbing. She was numb as the last of her tears streaked through the blood on her face, and another piece of her left with the dead.

* * *

Katniss let the water run over her hands, watching the blood run from them as the water turned pink. She had been able to wash most of the blood from her body, the last evidence of Gale being in her life running down the drain. After Gale had passed away, Peeta had one of the male codes help him carry his body back to an abandoned warehouse which was once used to harbor code refugees.

Peeta had made sure the lights and water were still running, in case he would have had to use it again. She unbuttoned her blood soaked clothing letting each piece fall to her feet like ashes. Her eyes were dark and her skin goose bumped from the slight chill in the air.

She collected her hair, assuming she had washed all of the blood from it, knotted it at the base of her neck. She heard a quiet knock at the door, before covering herself up with her arms. Peeta's head poked in and she nodded him in, she turned to the sink turning off the water, her arms falling to her side.

Peeta blushed at the sight of her naked body, as he walked over to the counter next to her lying down a stack of clothing.

"I wasn't expecting to see all of you, so soon."

Katniss rolled her eyes as she reached for the set of clothes," You've seen me naked, Peeta. I just couldn't be in those clothes any longer."

Peeta nodded, "I understand," he thumbed something in the stack of things sitting on the counter," I uh-I got those papers you were asking for, you and the kid should be ok with crossing the districts. I've also set up some contacts who owe me favors to help the two of you out if you come to need it. But most are still loyal to your father and the Everdeen name."

Katniss pulled on her clothing, the soft material sliding down her back," Peeta-"

"I don't want to know where you're going, because if I do I know I'll be tempted to find you. And it's better this way, a clean break."

Katniss slipped on the worn jeans, buttoning them up, her hands went to his face,"Peeta-"

"I was drowning too you know. Before I knew you, and you saved me. Not just from the gun wound, but from everything. You saved me."

"We can't be together right now."

Peeta placed his hands onto hers," Why not. We could be a family."

"I'm tired of burying people. Right now it's like I can feel their hand dragging me down, and I can't breathe."

"Gale just died, it'll get-"

"Better? It won't. He died because of us, because he knew us. And he risked it to protect our child. I can't let his sacrifice be in vain. I have to be a mother now. I need to let you go, to be a whole person for our son. I have to find myself again, and I can't do it here with you."

Peeta moved his face to the side trying to fight back his own tears, as hers fell from her face to her chest. Katniss slipped her hands from his face opening up the bag she had with Brenton's things in it, placing the ones on the counter along with them. Peeta reached into his pocket, a gold pin clutched in his palm. Katniss watched as he unfolded his hand revealing the bird pin in it.

"I want you to have this. Give it to our son when he's old enough to understand its meaning."

Katniss placed her hand on his, curling her fingers over the trinket," Katniss he has a legacy. Whether we want to recognize it or not it's still there. He's forever going to be a Mellark and Everdeen. It's in his blood and you have to prepare him for it. Like James did with you."

Katniss kept her eyes on the pin," I understand."

Peeta nodded as he drew his hand away, watching Katniss slip on the thread bare coat he had given her. She inhaled the scent of him; it was musky and almost floral. She slid the pin into her pocket, her fingers touching something else. She pulled out a piece of an old dandelion; her eyes went directly to Peeta.

"I go to the cabin sometimes to think, and work on your garden."

Katniss nodded, and slipped the flower into the pocket, her reminder of Peeta. She picked up the strap of the bag pulling it over her head, as she walked passed Peeta. It took all of her will power not to kiss him goodbye, she couldn't let herself feel for him, it would only restore the idea of him sharing a grave with Gale.

She was caught by surprised when her body was being turned around and her chest crushed into his. Katniss wanted to protest, she wanted to push him away, refuse to have any contact. However when his lips crushed to hers, every part of her fell silent, as she melted into him one last time. His mouth was gentle and warm, and for those few seconds she felt the boy she fell in love with.

Katniss was the first to pull away, her hands tangling in his hair. Peeta laid his forehead against hers, his breathing deep.

"I love you, Katniss."

Katniss exhaled a sigh, her chest becoming tight," I know."

* * *

**A/N: Woah! That really was a long chapter and thank you to those who stuck through it. I wanted to give context to Brenton's story, and in return show how PK grew to love each other in this universe. Reviews are Love!**

-Stace


	4. Chapter 4

****Rated Adult for Language Violence, Physical/Implied Sexual Assault

**004A**

_**Brenton**_

The stone formed to make the hallway walls, seem to leach the chill into the air making the temperature ten degrees lower inside than the atmosphere is out. The coarse material of the pants rubs up against the inside of my legs and it's difficult not to want to pull them off entirely.

My hands keep absentmindedly traveling there to readjust, the fabric but I'm sure of extra eyes watching my every move. I can't help but take in my surroundings, and paranoia is already taking priority over any other emotion. The shuffling of ill fitted boots echo over the stones, and the loose boot strings fling pebbles at the back of each other's legs.

There's an armed guard at each end of the huddled mass of boys, I take notice the ages range from twelve to eighteen. We're all dressed in the same stiff uniform of muted shirts and pants, and some have the same haircut as I do, our naked scalps covered in thread bare winter caps. I move against the wall before one of the armed guards has the opportunity to steer me back with their weapon.

As if on cue, or it's out of habit, every boy moves back in synch. The cold air hits my face, the above awning not covering the wall.

I have to protect my back from the scraping of the stones, as my body is pushed back due to the crowd. An armed guard ushers us past the stone walls to an exit, where another is posted at the door, holding what I assume is a device to scan the markings on our arms. The hall is silent, not what I would expect when at least a hundred young boys are forced together.

There's no laughter or altercations, everything is completely silent, this place is the death of childhood, and I already feel as though I am marching to my grave. I try to clear my head, aware of how radical I sound. I can see one of the guards out of the corner of my eye; I chance a glance to my left, when I see a similar crowd of girls across to the next hallway.

There's sections of the wall which leaves about ten inches of void, and I watch them for a few seconds. Most of them are younger like the boys surrounding me, and I can't help the sadness which starts to well up in me.

There's a soft spot in my heart for women, it must come from being raised by an independent female. My mind goes directly to my mother, and the sadness quickly turns to guilt.

I'm being pushed by behind, as a little boy who can't be more than twelve, braces himself with the lower half of my back. I look behind, and he's already staring up at me. His eyes are light colored, similar to mine, and his round face is blistered by weather exposure. He ducks his head, dropping his hands to his sides to eventually bury them in his torn pockets.

I crack a slight smile and turn forward again, as the pace of the line accelerates. Out of curiosity, I sneak another glance over, as I approach another group of openings, and its then I catch a glimpse of her dark waves. I almost stop walking when I first see her, although the insistency of the others behind me doesn't allow it.

She's even more striking in the dim lit hallway than she was before, and I'm taken over by the heat rising up my body. I can't seem to take my eyes off of her, as I watch her escort many of the smaller girls forward. A few are hanging onto her shirt, and tore belt loops, as she smoothes the hair of another. I have to fight the urge to go over and find her, almost desperate to be inches away from her.

It's puzzling how she's making me feel, and I want to blame my attraction to her on the stress of the situation, but I can't entirely bring myself to do so.

I lose sight of her for a few minutes, as the wall separating us becomes solid again. I'm anxious to find her in the crowd again, and I can't help feeling a little bit hopeful, when I notice another small group of openings. The boys in front of me have been stopped, the amount of all of us has caused the lines to bottleneck, and the guards now have to thin out the number of those approaching the exit.

I'm forced to stop, and when I look over to start my search for her again, my breath catches in my throat. I'm met with the intense green eyes from before, and I can't help but feel unnerved under her stare. A little girl with braids is pulling on the hem of her shirt, trying to gain her attention, but she ignores her.

She keeps her gaze on me, her expression unreadable, and it starts to trouble me how much I can't quite figure her out. The wave of her hair falls into her eyes, as she shifts her feet, half of her face is hidden from me, and I want to brush the hair aside. Its seconds until she turns away from me, and she walks past the separation of the walls.

I try to wet my mouth which has now gone dry, and we're once again ushered forward. I lean to the left to watch the guard posted up to the front of the line. He's using the device in his hand to scan the inside of the other boy's arms; I run my fingers over mine, the swelling still slightly present.

I'm about five boys back, the line moves quickly and before I can register anything, the guard pulls my arm from my side and twists it upward. Some heat comes from the scanner, and I'm a bit annoyed by the pain. It takes seconds before, he looks up from the device to me.

He looks confused, and I swear he almost takes a double take of the screen before his expression become unreadable once again.

"323 is assigned to wash duty. 323 is to check in with 193, for further instruction."

I roll my eyes," I have a name, it's-"

"Not anymore you don't. And we all know who you are. Get moving 323."

I'm taken aback by his comment, frozen in my place, the barrel of a firearm pushes my left shoulder and I'm pushed through the door. My eyes are blurry, when I'm met with the bright light of a small courtyard. I follow a group of young boys, figuring they may know more what's going on than I do. As I make my way across the sunken ground, I can't help but notice the glances towards my way and the quiet exchanges between the other children.

Out of my left eye I can see a crowd of girls mixing in with the boys, and I scan the crowd for the girl. I finally see the little girl with braids but she's walking alone, and I'm more than disappointed. I notice a steel warehouse, where most of the children are walking into, and I follow suit. When I enter through the tall metal door, the humidity makes me want to step out, but I'm pushed forward by the mass of people behind me.

I notice at least a dozen doors facing the entrance, and above each one a sign is nailed to the wall. I scan the wall for the washroom, and finally find it at the end of the wall. Most of the children filing into the room are younger, and I'd be surprised if any of them were older than fourteen. I have to push through the crowd, and I have to use my weight advantage over the younger kids, to ensure I'm not pushed to the ground by the force of there being so many of them.

When I finally reach the room, it's even more humid than it is in the main entrance of the warehouse. The motors of the machines rattle on and the sting of bleach, and soap waft through the air. The humidity is so high, I observe most of the boys, and the few girls here, already have sweated through the fabric of their shirts. I have to wipe my own brow, the air heavy and uncomfortable.

Sweat is pouring from under my cap and I take it off tucking it in the waist line of my pants. I scan the room looking for a familiar face; the stacks of folded linen obscure my line of sight. I can hear yelling over the loud humming of the industrial dryers, the need to cringe comes over me when I immediately notice the voice.

"No, butthead starch is not supposed to be used all the time. If it was then we'd all be walking around like we had a damn pole up our asses. This shit they pass as clothes, itches my nuts bad enough."

I see the lanky boy round the corner by the washers, as he slaps the younger boy upside the back of his head. I stand there watching him, waiting for him to notice me, but he's too busy moving on to his next victim. His volume isn't to the extreme as before, but I see a few boys snicker who are in listening range. Reluctantly, I navigate around the bustle of children, who are emptying machines, and separating materials.

With much skill, I usually reserve for hunting, I weave through the hysteria of the washroom. He notices me before I can make it a few feet on the other side of the table he's leaning against. I still my breath, which is hard due to the heat, my back stiffening.

A smirk crosses over his face, and the lines at the corner of his green eyes deepen. The two younger boys take notice of me and once again I'm the topic of conversation behind their cupped hands. Carr seems annoyed by their whispers, causing him to pick up the stack of towels; they had just finished folding, and tossing them behind his head. The boys look at him with their mouths agape, and both are stunned as they are stuck in place.

Carr stares me down, as I do the same to him, until he realizes neither has moved to pick up the linens. The blonde hair which now sticks to his face, due to sweat is unmoving as he whips his head in their direction. Both are still staring at him when he throws up his hands.

"Go, fold the damn towels again! He's not some freak show, he doesn't need two little shits like you to gossip in front of him. Get moving before I go and tell Guard Cray you're lonely for some company."

Both almost fall over each other as they scatter to collect the forgotten towels. Carr looks back my way, when he's sure each of the two boys is doing as he wants. He swallows heavily and I have to hold back the bile in my throat when sniffs the mucus back up into his nasal cavity.

"Well if it isn't the conquering hero, who gets his ass laid out by rocks."

I fake a smile, the sarcasm in my voice thick," Well if it isn't the letch who has to be bailed out from a fight only to have him run away like a little bitch baby."

Carr straightens his back, and I'm preparing for a fight, when he all of a sudden lets out a full laugh," Keep talking to me like that, and I might start to like you."

I release a sigh, I wasn't aware I was holding," We wouldn't that. Would we?"

Carr shrugs, as he rounds the table, ending up to stand beside me," For what it's worth, the thing with Serkan wasn't about me," he scratches the side of his face, dropping his head slightly," you were set up."

"Why?"

"It's good you're pretty because you're not too bright," I have to roll, my eyes and I know he's resisting to laugh out loud," You're Mellark's kid. You are the fucking jewel of the rebellion. Snow hit the jackpot having you here."

"Alright so say I am his kid. Other than being a bargaining tool for Snow, what am I to him?"

"The arena of course."

"Arena?"

"Really?," he shakes his head at me, and I'm beginning to be acutely irritated with his condescending manner," The arena is where guerillas with weapons, shred the shit out of each other to earn an early pass out of this lovely hole. Snow set you up to see how well you could fight. You my boy are the best advertising stunt, he's ever had."

I can see a few other children staring at us, as Carr notices also, his hands rising up as they scatter. He shakes his head, as he moves over to a stack of sheets, separating a few and tossing them to a small dark skinned girl.

Her thin arms struggle to get a hold of the cumbersome load, as some falls to the floor. I'm ready for him to yell at her, but he only bends down collecting them for her, before he stands up, pats her on the head and sends her on her way. I rush past the still busy crowd to make it to his side.

"If I'm so destined for the blood bath of the arena than why was I assigned here with you, where all the smaller kids work?"

"To keep an eye on you."

"Alright, I get it. But what's your excuse."

He turns to me and his expression is more serious than before," Same reason. Plus it's better than digging holes out back. Sure it's hot as a sweaty ball sack in here, but it's better than most of the work details."

"Then why am I here? Why not just keep me in my cell?"

Carr shakes his head," I don't know."

We both stand there unmoving for a few seconds before; a red headed little boy with freckles comes bounding up to me. I almost hit him due to reflex when he pulls on my sleeve hard. My eyes must be wide; I'm surprised he had such tenacity to come up to me, since most seem to be afraid of me.

"Is it true you're a Mellark?"

I'm not what to say to him, it's as though I'm afraid to admit it to myself, "I-"

Carr sees my hesitation and he throws a sheet on the little boy," Get out of here, you little idiot."

The little boy huffs and throws the sheet back at Carr, who catches it easily," That kid drives me freaking nuts. He's whipped almost every week, and still he has the biggest mouth around here, and that's including me."

"They whip kids who are so small?"

Carr notices my shock, his voice is soft and almost inaudible in the loud room," Yes they do."

I have to swallow the acid rising up into my throat, and the heat of the room is making me dizzy. I breathe in deeply and wipe the back of my hand over my forehead. Sweat which would have been trapped in my thick dark hair is now travelling down to my face. I clear my throat, gaining Carr's attention.

"Why are there mostly boys here? They separate the girls from us?"

"They have hormonal desperate teenagers roaming around. Why do you think?, "Carr tilts his head at me," Are you looking for someone in particular?"

"No."

Carr lets out a sharp laugh," Bullshit!"

I'm about to respond when I can hear a few sharp screams coming from over next to the far wall. A few of the young boys are walking away their heads held down, most trip over their over sized boots. I look around for the guard who I assumed should be posted here, seeing how many of us are in the room. I survey the room quickly not noticing one; I look to Carr who has been doing the same.

"Where's the guard?"

"The guard should be Cray, and he's nowhere to be seen. Which means one thing."

"He's the one who escorted me here," I point up to my swollen eye," he gave me this and a few other gashes to remember him by. Heavensbee mentioned how he was with the young girls here."

"He wasn't wrong."

I can't help the shock on my face, and when I hear the screaming rising over the motors of the machines, I don't have to hesitate. Carr grabs my arm, when I pass him, his eyes dark.

"This isn't your fight."

I narrow my eyes at him, disgusted;" Do you think that matters?"

"All I know is you already have a target on your back. Do you really want to make it worse?"

I pull my arm from his grasp," Let go of me!"

I can hear him call after me, a slur or two is thrown in, but all I have in me pushes me forward, as I barrel through the crowd. I ignore the ones I push over, and my pulse starts to race. There's a metal table to the side of one of the machines. I turn it over and use the heel of my boot to pull the screws loose of each leg.

The metal of the screws and the legs clatter to the floor, the sound bouncing off of the walls. I know exactly what I'm to find when I near the wall and all I feel is rage. I grip the ends of the now broken side table. The end of it hits me in the knees, the humidity clings to me. There's a crowd of boys gathered and I push my way through the crowd.

I see Cray hunched over, he's struggling with the belt at his waist, as legs swing underneath him. Her cries deafen the sounds around me and all I feel is hate. I inhale a deep breath knowing this is the first step to a bullet in the head.

He still has his firearm swung over his shoulder, and I debate if using the gun is a better idea, but I know who I am, and it's not at the end of a gun. I step forward, tapping the end of the table at his back. He turns on me, his face red and round. I can see the little girl struggle underneath him, as he has her mouth covered with his grimy hand.

I can see when it registers to him who I am, as he looks down to my hands. We keep this way for a few seconds before, he reaches for his firearm, letting go of the girl. She's stuck in her place against the wall, and I have to yell at her to go before she runs off, the front of her shirt ripped open, revealing more than it should. Before he can fully take hold of his weapon, I send the metal across his face.

I can hear the cracking over the sound of the washroom, his large body hitting the floor. Everything inside of me is surging, and I know I should stop there, when he's defenseless, and the girl is no longer in harm's way.

However, I can't stop myself from approaching him, and bringing down the table on top of his body over and over again. I'm sloppy and careless of how it connects with his body. I hear nothing but his wails and my heavy breathing, the blood pumping in my ears. I want him to suffer, and this alone makes me stop.

I hold the table over my head, drops of blood drip from the edge, landing on the front of my shirt. I finally look onto my damage, his face is swollen and bloody, the gun still attached to his shoulder, but he doesn't take the opportunity to reach for it. I throw the table to my left, it spins and flips to the floor, the sound of metal hitting cement resonates.

I'm breathing hard, as I spit on his body, my anger starting to ebb only a bit. I'm shaking, while I look to the other faces that have now stopped what they were doing to watch me. I must look like a monster to everyone, and I know the hype towards me will only rise.

I find Carr's face in the crowd and he looks even more perplexed then the others. I start to walk towards the center of the crowd, but I'm pushed to the ground hard. The air in my lungs escapes my body as I'm held down by heels of boots and the barrel of a gun at the back of my skull. I close my eyes, ready for the inevitable, but I'm grately surprised when I'm pulled up to my feet.

Each one of my arms is held up by a guard, while another walks behind us with his rifle still pointed at me. The crowd of children parts easily, and I keep my eyes forward, my back straight.

I'm escorted out into the courtyard, my boots sinking into the mud. I can feel my adrenaline from before weaning and the soreness of my body sinking in. I chance a glance over, and I see her again. Her face is serious but beautiful as ever, while her dark hair frames her face; a few thin hairs brush her face.

She keeps her body still, and I'm thankful I was able to see her one last time, whoever she is. It's not a long walk inside the building across the way, and when we take a right turn instead of left which leads to my cell, I'm more than worried.

I'm dragged down another corridor, as the white walls blend into deep purple and it's now I know where we're headed. I'm being taken into the belly of the beast, and I know only death awaits me there.

* * *

004B.

Snow leaned back into his chair, the movement causing the metal to squeak beneath the leather. When the video feed ended he once again pressed the button for replay. He couldn't help the smile which curved up the corners of his full lips. With his mouth halfway open he breathed in through his lips, the sweet scent of roses mixing with the metallic taste of blood.

He reached down into his suite pocket for the handkerchief he had been using. Tiny spots of blood covered the embroidered fabric, as he held it to his mouth. The sores at the sides inside of his mouth had started to seep again, and he was finding it hard swallow. However, the discovery he had made was enough to set him into a positive mood.

He had been correct in thinking this young boy would be the leverage he had needed. The boy had definite skill and the older man could only guess to the extent he had been trained.

The vases of flowers shook a bit, causing Snow to look over to his right. He followed the movement of the slightly younger man as he walked over to the screen. Snow didn't object when he stood in his line of sight. The dark haired man tilted his head to the side, studying the boy in the video. He cleared his throat, as he stepped back, the back of his legs touching the edge of the desk.

"He's his son alright, sir. See the way he positions his feet when he's ready to attack? Exactly like Mellark, it's almost uncanny."

Snow folded his hands, bringing them to his chin," Excellent. Than it won't be difficult for others to recognize the similarities. The question is, will the boy participate?"

The man kept his back to him," It's hard to say, sir. But there are ways of motivating him."

"Thread I need this boy to compete. It is imperative."

Thread turned around, the scars on his face catching the light," He will sir. Leave it to me."

Snow tipped his chair forward," Speaking of, Lucious. This concerns me, given the history you have with the boy's father. Are you entirely clear in the matter?"

Lucious straightened his back," Yes, sir. I will get you results."

Snow dabbed the side of his mouth," I'm sure you will," he reached to the left of him pressing a button encased in the desk, the screen lifted up into the ceiling," The boy is being brought to me this minute. Apparently he almost killed Guard Cray with a metal stand."

"Pardon me, Elective Snow, but Guard Cray being removed from life wouldn't be the worst."

Snow chuckled, the petals of the rose pinned to his lapel shook," No, it wouldn't," Snow reached over behind him and picked up the thin piece of plastic, handing it over to Thread," Here's the boys read outs. His codec is 323."

A loud knock sounded through the office as Thread took the tablet, studying it. Snow waited for him to finish, earning a nod from Thread when he was prepared. Elective Snow pressed another button, causing the doors to open slowly.

The tall wooden doors creaked, revealing two guards at each arm of the young boy in question. His shoulders were hunched slightly, and his shirt was speckled with blood. The lines in his face were visible and his blue eyes were a bit glassy. Snow waved the guards in, as Thread joined him behind the desk.

The guards pushed the boy forward, making him almost tip forward; he stumbled for a second before gaining his composure. Thread studied him, observing his every movement. The boy kept his back straight, only looking forward. He reminded Lucious of Luka Mellark, which only irritated him more.

Snow cleared his throat,"323, I'm positive you know why you're standing before me?"

"Yes, sir. I imagine its death sentence to injure a guard."

Snow laughed," 323, you did more than injure."

"Pardon me, sir. I regret to the extent I went to, but I do not regret striking him. I've become rather fond of it."

"Tell me 323, is it difficult for you to hold your tongue?"

"No, sir. Although I don't see the point given I'm sure I won't see the next day."

"323 we have so much more in store for you than a bullet."

"Can I be so bold to ask what it may be, sir?"

"I'm sure with your lacking up bringing you know nothing of the arena,"Brenton kept his eyes on the wall," The arena is where a chosen few are able to show their skill and participate in mortal combat. I would be pleased to have you as a contender."

"I have to decline. I'd rather be shot."

Snow stands up from his desk, walking past Thread who he gives a sharp look to, the dark haired man nods. Brenton watches the white haired man walk to the front of the desk, the boy falters lowering his shoulders just a bit before finding his composure. Brenton can't help but miss his long dark hair; it would have been useful now, giving him something to shield his face with.

"Why are you so opposed to competing?"

"It's funny. You make it sound like game, when in reality you're forcing children to kill each other for your own entertainment."

"Your mother taught you something, eh?"

Brenton narrows his eyes," She taught me enough."

"Is this right?"

"Yes. And I'm not going to play into your little games just because you're bored. So you might as well just kill me now."

"Oh boy, not quite yet. I have plans for you."

Snow looks behind Brenton to see Master Heavensbee walk up behind the boy.

"Master Heavensbee, have you begun preparations on the new plans for the boy here?"

Brenton sneaks a look at the tall man, whose suit is now a rich pink color. His hair is still slicked back, and groomed perfectly, a hair not out of place.

"I have to agree don't I, or all you have is a corpse in the first minute."

Snow looks over to Thread who has started to join him in the middle of the room next to the young boy.

"Is this so?"

"It must pain you not having control over how I think. The mind is something you can never possess, and it must piss you off."

"Child there are ways to persuade you, and showing you to your place."

Brenton squares his shoulder, closing the gap between him and Snow," Try me, old man."

Snow smiles and Brenton is almost knocked over by the stench of blood," I don't get my hands dirty. Head Guard Thread deals with these types of situations," Snow turns to the man beside him, waving his hand in the air as he makes his way back behind his desk with Heavensbee at his heels," Take care of it, Lucious."

Brenton barely has time, to look to his left before he's met with a fist to the jaw line, knocking him to the ground. The carpet is as unforgiving as the ground outside, and his body aches. He lays his hands flat to prop himself up, aware of Thread standing over him, but the dizziness takes over and he falls back onto the ground, face first. He barely has time to take a breath before everything goes black.

* * *

004C.

_**Daria**_

The rain has begun to fall, and I imagine the freedom it must feel, being able to touch everything and affect it, if only it did have feelings. The cold stone's of the wall burn the frigid touch through my shirt, and I revel in the ability to still feel at all. I try to keep parts of me hidden, at first it was a sense of survival, but now all it has become is habit. I'm afraid if I keep chipping away at myself, someday there might be nothing to recover. I shake my head trying to clear it, I always become reflective after my fittings with Cinna.

I curse him for it, but he's one of the few people who talk to me as an actual person. I try to keep to myself even with him but he refuses to take notice. We had to go through a few fittings and preparation for the next few excursions to the Capitol. He had been taking my measurements when he looked up to me, the bangs of his dark hair falling into his face.

"Daria, darling have you been eating? You've lost at least three inches at her sides, since the last time I saw you?"

"Eating isn't really much of a priority here, Cinna. Besides whatever I have, it goes to one of the little ones."

"You're not their mother."

"And you're not mine. I thought you were a stylist not a nurse maid."

Cinna lays down his measuring tape, and stands up to face me. Even with the chair I'm standing upon, he still towers over me. His honey golden eyes lock with mine and I find genuine concern there.

"Daria, you have to take care of yourself. You know what happens to courtesans when the interest of the Capitol becomes thin," he lays his hands on my face and I'm comforted by my friend," I do not want to see it happen to you."

"They're getting younger, it's as though they don't even bother to reap anymore."

I move my head to the side, dark curls cover his hands," You have to keep going. We mustn't ever quit."

"I feel like I don't have any fight left."

Cinna scoffed," You? Of course you do child. You have a light inside of you; don't allow them to take it away."

"They have Cinna. I'm just a whore who's only a number. 128 is all I am now."

Cinna lets go of my face and pulls me into a hug, the force sends me forward slightly. I wrap my arms around him, comfortable with this type of affection.

I can hear him talk into my hair, "If this is truly true, than what is the point of waking up every morning?"

I had drawn back from him and watched as he resumed his work. Neither of us spoke, except to say goodbye when it was time for him to return to the Capitol, and myself to the far side of the compound. I think of Cinna as a friend, and I know thinking of him this way can only get him killed. T

he wind has picked up and I cross my arms to rub some warmth into them. I look to my left where I can see a few older codes rushing into the walkway which leads to the center courtyard. Oddly enough I can't stop my mind from going back to this morning, when I saw the boy again.

He looked confused to see me at first, and to my dismay I couldn't stop from searching for him, when the wall parted.

I had dreamt about him last night, he had taken my hand and we walked through the empty courtyard. Hand in hand we made our way to a door, it seemed to span up into the sky breaking the clouds. I had looked up to see the rain start to fall; I couldn't help but laugh and revel in the cool water. He had taken my face in his hands, lowering it to his.

For a few seconds his bright blue eyes connected with my green ones, and became lost in him. When his mouth landed on mine, the heat almost made me go limp. His tongue was insistent and passionate and I couldn't help but fall into the same rhythm. I placed my hands on his chest, the feel of it wet, and plastered to his muscular chest. I pulled back a smile on my lips, which is when I tasted it, the metallic palate of blood.

I opened my eyes to see it streaming down his olive skin; it had seemed to have coated him, his features becoming buried in it. I reached up to his face frantically trying to wash it free with my fingers. When I tried it was though I couldn't touch any of it, my own body oddly clean and untouched. I had started to cry, while he began to melt into the bloody puddle at his feet. I had woken with a jolt, laying the remainder of the night in my bed awake.

The fact his father is the face of the resistance is enough to make me want to keep my distance, but the way he looks at me, draws me in, and it upsets me completely. I raise my hands to my face covering my eyes, the little bit of energy I had this morning is now gone. I breathe in slowly, a yawn escapes my mouth, and I have to look around me, hoping no one noticed.

Even the smallest infraction can result in a beating or worse. I'm startled when I'm almost knocked back further by a group of codes, who I recognize from the thirteenth group. When the straggler of the group passes me, I grab her arm forcing her back in front of me.

"What's happening?"

She's panting as she leans in, struggling to catch her breath," Thread has someone at the whipping post."

"He has before, why is it so important now?"

"Because of who it is."

My voice is a whisper; it's meant more for me than her," No."

I release her arm, as I race up the corridor; my head feels cloudy as I suck in the cool air. I almost run out of my oversized boots, the laces whipping about. The wind's rough against my cheeks, and my hair wraps around my face obscuring my vision. I slap the strands away, as I run down the walkway. I push a group of codes to the side, a few falling to the cold stones.

The archway is just before me, and I rush to make it into the courtyard, the crowd has become thick and it takes all of my strength to push them aside. The rain has become a down pour and I am instantly drenched, the dirt has now become thick mud, and I almost lose one of my boots in the process of moving forward. The cold rain stings my warm cheeks and I can feel my skin heat up, my pulse has started to race, the only thought in my mind is to find him.

I need to see him, prove myself wrong, because in this moment I would rather someone else to be in between the whipping posts, than a boy I've only seen twice, and this troubles me.

I finally reach the top of the hill; I lose my footing, while making my way down. There are a few other codes who have joined me to get a better look, I want to push them aside, but I'm too preoccupied with my own venture. I can see the posts first, the sheets of rain blur my vision and I have to blink the drops away from my eyelashes.

I force my feet to move forward, when I notice the codes from before have seen exactly what I have, and they have now stopped in their tracks. Head Keeper Thread is latching the boys wrists to each post using the leather bindings screwed to the wood. Two of the other keepers are having to hold him up, and from where I'm standing the boy appears to half awake.

His lower half is completely limp, as his hips dip down. Thread is grinning, and from here I can see how the facial expression magnifies the markings.

When the boy is secured, the keeper on Thread's right hands him a long thick piece of leather, his large hand curls over it slowly, reveling in the feel. My heart drops into my stomach, because it's a rare occasion when Thread is the one to do the actual whipping. His specialties are more covert, he's much more comfortable behind closed doors. The broken fingers I had when I was thirteen can attest to such a thing.

The boy has started to come to fully, as he starts to struggle against his binds. Thread notices this, as he curls his free hand over the top of the boy's skull, with a jerk he brings his head back, the boy being forced to look up into the down pour. Thread bends down whispering something into the boy's face, which results in him thrashing his body wildly.

This only makes Thread laugh, and this chills me more than the weather. The boys head is thrown down, and he lurches his body forward the leather straps cutting into his wrists, he turns each to the side trying to lessen the contact of the leather to his skin.

The Head Keeper pulls a blade from his pocket raising it up to the boys back; I stop myself from gasping, as he cuts the stiff fabric from his back. The rest of the shirt falls to the ground, the mud and water seeping into the threading. I chance a few more steps forward, there had been a few others to join me before, and I want to be away from their stares, even with the heavy rain I'm terrified they may see may pained expression. I can feel the mud climbing up my ankles, as my toes curl in the thin white socks; the rain has soaked them, causing the feeling in my toes to flee.

My hair is now formed to my face, and I try not to shiver from the feel of cold rain seeping into my body. I can see Thread preparing, and I close my eyes to will the situation away. I can feel the rain roll down my eyelids, and over my nose to lie on my lips.

When I finally open my eyes I'm met with bright blue ones, which seem to burn through me. I can see the fear in his eyes, and I will myself to keep his eye contact. I can see his shoulders tense, and he swallows hard, before Thread raises his hand, the long piece of leather rides into the air, striking back.

I can see the agony in his face before the crack of the whip announces itself. His shoulders slump forward, but he quickly finds his composure, attempting to solidify his balance. The rain rushes down his body, and I imagine the pressure of the rain hitting his open wound can't be pleasant. He keeps his eyes on mine unflinching, until another takes comes on followed by another.

His eyes falter some, as he shudders, and I can see the muscles in his shoulders spasm. I can tell he's starting to break and I want nothing more than to go over to him. Thread turns his weapon back onto the boy, this time he awarded with a guttural scream, and I can't stop the tears rushing down my face.

The boy has now bared his nails into his hands, and I can see blood rushing down his palms and wrists, from the leather straps, being carried down to his arm pits by the rain water. His knees buckle and he falls down enough before the straps hold him up, tearing into the flesh even more.

Thread wraps the whip around his hand, the rain washes over his dark eyes, and I believe with the lighting fire behind him in the background he's even more terrifying than usual. Although the truly horrific fact is, he's only the attack dog.

The real danger is watching from a far in an office of deep colored tapestries and carpets surrounded by the floral scent of roses. I let my body relax just enough to breathe; thankful it's at least over for now.

Thread's voice booms over the rain," Are you going to compete now?"

The boys eyes are now closed, and his head is downcasted,"No."

Thread shakes his head, dark strands fall into his face due to the rain pushing his hair forward. He opens up his hand to unwind the leather from his palm. I want to rush to the boy shield his battered body with my own, but I'm ashamed of how much of a coward I am, instead I merely stand there, hoping for him to look up at me once again so I can give him the little amount of strength I have left.

As if on cue, his blue eyes look through me, and I try not to wince when I see the whip rise into the cloudy sky, cracking against his once smooth skin. Blood has started to mix with the rain to run down the length of his body and puddle beneath him. His body slumps even more, as his fingers unclench and fall free. Where he's hanging is on a small hill and some of his blood travels down to where I'm standing.

Some of the codes have been pushed into the corridor up the hill, where being shielded from the rain is possible. I can hear one of the Keepers telling me to come out of the rain, but I ignore him. I don't dare leave the boy alone, I'm afraid of severing the connection we have in this moment.

His face has noticeably fell, and even with the downpour rushing over my face I can see he's lost quite a bit of color. Thread wraps the whip around the back of his shoulder, as he leans in to the battered body of the boy in front of him.

"How about now?," the boy keep silent and I see him struggle to keep his screams in," Do you think you're some kind of hero, for holding out like this? Let me tell you about heroes kid. They're just another side of the coin. Deep down we're all killers; there is no good and evil, just the side that's smart enough to work within the system."

The boy uses all his strength to rise himself up, his body shakes uncontrollably, and a bit of saliva mixes with the rain on his lips. He keeps eye contact with me, the dark circles around his eyes only magnified by the startling blue of his eyes. He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out, his jaw line clenches as he struggles to speak.

Thread's patience becomes thin, as he once again strikes against the skin of his back. The boy lets out a scream so haunting I begin to shake myself, it's so raw, almost animalistic, and everything in me breaks. The tears rush down my pale skin, the salt mixes with the rain, dripping off of my jaw line. The boy slumps once again, further than before, his body broken like my spirit. I can hear him repeat one word over and over again; it comes out as a whisper, "_no"_.

I mouth for him to stop, my eyes pleading with his, when the onslaught of attacks takes over once again. His throat is so raw by this time; all he does is groan, before repeating his mantra once again, _"nononononononono". _

Thread fumes with anger, as he throws the whip to the ground, his hands go to the boy's bloody back, pressing his thumbs into the wounds. The boy's body jerks forward and his face twists with agony. I look around, the rain has lessened some but still pounds into the earth, and the boy's blood waits to be spread along the ground. The Keeper from before looks on, his brow furrowed, his bright red hair has darkened from the rain collecting there.

Darius is the one of the few Keepers here I still see as human. I can see the concern on his face, but he knows as well as anyone, tangling with Thread is a death sentence, especially when it's so personal for him. I search the grounds for anyone to help, but mostly all I see are codes who are as worthless as I am, or Keepers who couldn't care less, only wanting to earn their worth of coin.

I can hear the whip crack once more, as I spot him standing three feet from me, his pink velvet suit clinging to his slender body due to the rain. His dark hair is still slicked back, and I wonder why he would be standing out in the rain and mud watching a whipping of all things.

I push back my curiosity, as I rush over to him, my legs sinking into the mud. I try to not appear desperate, reminding myself to use my skills as I would when I'm forced to conduct _business _in the Capitol. I square my shoulders, and erase the worry etched into my expression. I reach him quickly, and it takes a few seconds before he looks to me acknowledging my presence. It feels like forever before he speaks to me addressing me as 128.

I clear my throat, and hope he mistakes the tear tracks on my face for rain water," Master Heavensbee, this seems as such a waste to me."

He raises a thin eyebrow in my direction," Why is this dear?"

I lower my voice," Sir, I'm aware of the boy's lineage. It merely seems counterproductive to kill off an asset because one man is far too zealous in his punishments. It is true Head Keeper Thread is skilled in things of brute force, but diplomacy and politics are far beyond his reach. Surely a man of vision such as you can see the value of keeping Peeta Mellarks son at the Capitol's disposal."

Plutarch nods slowly, his eyes going to where Thread bends down to the boy speaking into his ear," What would you have me to do?"

"As the Master of the camp? Stop this… please."

I worry my last statement had too much of my desperation seeping through, but he steps forward with giving me a second glance to finally be standing in front of where the boy is, who now from my vantage point seems to be unconscious. I can't quite hear what is being said between the two men, but when Thread looks to me, I quickly avert my eyes to the sunken ground.

Heavensbee stands in front of the larger man to block his view of me and I let out a quiet sigh. I tense when I see Threads hand raise up, a blade gripped in his palm. With little thought he cuts the leather straps holding the boy up, first the left one, his body falling to one side, and finally the right one which sends him face first into the puddle of mud, blood, most likely some of his urine.

I hope the rain has washed most of it down the small hill, his naked upper half sinking into the ground. I'm concerned with him drowning in the small collection of water, but I wait for Thread to trudge off in the opposite direction before I rush over to the boy, where Heavensbee is standing over him. My knees crash into the wet soil, sinking a few inches before I slip my right hand under his face turning it to the side to face me, his nose and mouth no longer buried in the water.

I take the boys face in both hands and try to clear his air ways.

I can see the angry tears of flesh on his back; some of the blood has already dried along the edges of the gashes, even with the falling rain. I try to plant my feet to raise the boy up but I can't seem to gain any leverage either because of my size or the slippery ground. I struggle a few minutes before I feel the tug of the other side of his body. I try not to smile when Carr raises his eye brow at me, taking the boy's other side.

"What is it with you and lost causes?"

"I have no idea, but it's the only reason who and I are friends?"

"Good point."

I shake my head at him while we successfully get to our feet, the boy's body hanging forward. I struggle under the weight, as Carr takes the brunt of it. Mater Heavensbee instructs us to take the boy to the cell he was at before and agree with my request to clean up his wounds. Carr and I trek up the steep muddy hill, both of us almost losing our balance more than once. We make it halfway up the hill, before Carr leans over to look at me.

"This basterd better be the second coming, because he's heavy as hell and I am not built for manual labor."

I struggle under the weight, my ankle twisting to the side, "Aren't you from an agricultural background?"

"Yes, but it doesn't mean I'm qualified to carry his ass around."

"Shut up, Carr. Keep walking."

Carr snickers, as we make it closer to the stone corridor. I pull on the back of the boy's pants, trying to not lose my grasp on him as we reach the archway. We place him on a wheeled bed, Heavensbee must have placed here, and wheel him down the hallway to where his cell will be. I can't help but rush, the mud sloshing into the cracks of the stones.

I force myself to find the strength to move faster, I see Carr at my heels, and he seems just as worried as I am. Codes have lines some of the walls and it almost seems to be as a vidual, but I refuse to allow him to die now. If I have to save him myself I will, because when he was being harmed it was the first time in a while I wanted to actually kiss a man, and this both excites me and terrifies me. Because in a place like this, the most dangerous emotion is hope, and I can't help feel it about this one boy.

* * *

004D.

_**Brenton**_

The branches above sway within the rhythm of the wind while the leaves are forced to rustle flit about. I try not to trip over the lifted roots of the trees again, chasing off the game and ensuring we don't have anything for a meal tonight. The bow is cumbersome in my small hands, and the bottom of the nock keeps hitting me in the knees and I can't stop the groan.

Strands of her dark hair fly up in the air, escaping her tight braid, which is lying down her back. She turns to me smiling, as she shakes her head walking over to me. My own hair has started to grow over my eyes, and she kneels down placing her own bow gently onto the ground. She reaches up brushing the hair out of my eyes and over to the side of my forehead.

Her dark eyes are warm, and I feel safe when she's near. I fidget, my fingers tap along the riser, and I scrunch up my face impatience to go back to our small dwelling on the outskirts of the district. I had found some old paints in my mother's things, which was curious to me seeing she never showed any interest in art.

They had been in an old tan satchel; the vials had fallen out when I unlatched the flap. I didn't have any time to further investigate before she walked in, upset by my snooping. To be honest I had been searching for things about my father. She rarely spoke of him, and I was nearly ten wanting to have any sense of a connection to the man, instead all I found were dried up paints.

Although I had been able to save one small vile of orange, it wasn't assaulting or obnoxious, but warm and inviting like the color of sunset. I would trace the color up my arms, the rich oils blending into my olive skin.

My mother stilled my hands with hers, her face serious but as always warm.

"Brenton, learning to hunt is a birth right you have which was given to me by my father, and now I pass it down to you. There is honor and strength in the ability, and I need you to understand this. Can you?"

I nod my head slowly, ashamed of my behavior," Yes, mother."

She runs her finger through my dark hair, and for a split second I think I see sadness. She easily covers the emotion, as she stands up before me picking up her bow from the ground. She places her free hand on my shoulder and we press on.

It feels like hours before we finally spot a small buck, I had been secretly wishing we wouldn't. Tracking had come natural to me, and I was happy to excel at something for my mother. The truth was, the thought of killing something was frightening to me.

Not so much the actual action of it, I knew the mechanics of the bow and what was the accurate approach and stance, but I was afraid of what came after the animal ceased to exist.

_Would I change? Lose a part of myself? _

My mother stood behind me, helping me position my body, when she was happy with my stance she instructed me to release. I hesitated for a second, before I let go the arrow flying through the air, barely missing the buck. The animal's muscles tensed, as it fled, however its attempt was in vain as an arrow struck its heart sending it to the mossy ground.

My eyes widened as I looked to my mother who was still holding her bow out, ready to strike. I was jealous of her skill and accuracy, wanting to pout. She lowered her weapon, hooking her arm through my as we approached the animal.

My legs feel like lead, as I drag my feet slightly. The animal has already expired, my mother bends down, taking my hand as she settles down into the dirt. I follow her suite, placing my free hand on my thigh. I want to avert my eyes, I've seen the carcasses after she's cleaned them, but now it's all too real, and I'm terrified. My mother looks over to me, most likely picking up on my hesitation. She gives me a long look before she looks the animal over.

"You have died so I may live, thank you for your noble sacrifice," I watched her with curiousity, "Brenton, there's a difference between killing to survive and murdering for the pleasure of self gratification."

"How will I know the difference?"

"I can show you the technique to hunt, to be skilled, but I cannot tell you how to think. It's something you have to discover for yourself."

"Why?"

"There's things a man, a person has to believe on their own. There also may come a day when you may be on your own, and I want to be sure you'll remember to listen to your heart."

I'm confused and the anxiety of everything is rushing over me," I don't know if I can do everything you're expecting."

She drops her bow and takes my face in her hands," You have a fire in you Brenton. Don't ever doubt the power of your spirit."

I nod slowly at her, the sun shows behind her which sets off the raven of her hair. The light begins to brighten and I have to cover my eyes. I move some but a sharp pain in my back earns a moan to come from my lips.

I open my eyes, but I'm no longer ten years old in the woods with my mother. My body aches, and I'm acutely aware of an intense burning sensation coming from my back. My eyes have started to focus revealing the grey brick cell I had awoke in the last time I had passed out.

Then everything comes flooding back to me, the conversation with Snow, the whipping. I remember hanging there, the rain washing over me, and wishing I could somehow leave my body, become someone else, and then I saw her. She looked so beautiful, her dark hair was pushed against her face by the rain, and her eyes seemed to look straight into me.

I was close to breaking, more than once, but I just concentrated on her. When she started to cry I was confused, shocked even, because I wouldn't have guessed she saw me as someone to cry over.

When she had told me to stop, I wanted to reach out to her, or in the very least be beside her. I try to move but my body is stiff, and I feel like vomiting, which wouldn't be wise seeing I'm lying on my stomach. I have to let out a small moan as the bile in my throat threatens to spill out. In moments I'm met with her green eyes, as she hunches down beside my bed.

I try to smile; my voice comes out raw and quiet," Hey."

The side of her full lips twitch up for a second, her eyes looking worried," Hey."

"If I keep waking up with my shirt off and have you hovering over me, I may get used to it. To be fair, you can be shirtless next time."

She shakes her head, causing her dark hair fall over her face, framing it," You're half dead, but it doesn't stop you from being an ass. Does it?"

"Half dead, huh?"

She nods and I can see tears starting to fill up her green eyes," Yes. Thank the spirits I was able to get you some morphling and some other medication, because I don't think my natural remedies would have worked this time."

"Don't underestimate the power of animal piss."

She lets out a soft laugh, and I feel almost happy," True."

"How did you manage to get drugs pass Snow?"

She places her long fingers on my arm closest to her, I'm acutely aware of her skin on mine, the tingling of my nerve endings under her hand, are firing off and I feel like jumping out of my skin. She moves her hand up to my cheek; her fingers are cool on my warm skin, trailing her fingers down to my jaw.

"Don't worry about it. Just concentrate on healing."

I'm lost in her touch and I curse myself for being too immobile to reach out to her," You keep taking care of me. Why?"

"I don't know."

Her green eyes search my face, and I let my mind wonder what exactly she sees.

* * *

004E.

_**Daria**_

I'm stuck in place kneeling beside him; he keeps his eyes on me, as I glide my hand down the structure of his face. He confuses me so much, I feel as though I don't have a concept of my own truths anymore. I know it's an accurate possibility we're being watched right now, and the close proximity between us is something forbidden.

True there are those few who participate in sorted affairs, but if found out the penalty is always death, and I don't see getting a little action on the side worth my life. However, I can't seem to stop touching his face, his skin warm under my touch. The fear of infection is still a reality; I had bandaged his back and administered the medication, an anti-inflammatory.

The morphling had ceased his shaking; the spasms had subsided almost immediately after administering the dosage. I had waited against the wall, concerned if he would be able to gain consciousness again. When he had started to stir, I was relieved to hear the groan escape his lips, because if you feel pain, it means you're alive, and being alive is the first step to recovery. I'm broke out of my reverie when he catches me off guard, something he's become an expert at, with a question. _" You keep taking care of me. Why?" _I give him a cowards answer, _"I don't know"_, and I'm immediately ashamed of myself not being able to tell him why I feel this need to take care of him_._

"_I feel a connection to you and it bugs the hell out of me"_ or _"I'm amazed by your strength"_, but instead I keep my defenses up as usual.

I search his face, the half not obscured by the mattress, his jaw line is strong and his olive skin sets off the striking blue of his eyes. There's no doubt he's handsome, but there's more to him than his looks, and this threatens me.

I can see myself falling for him, and this terrifies me. I've grown accustomed to sex and what it entails, but love is foreign to me, and I intend to keep it such. He sighs quietly, and I draw my hand back, setting it in my lap along with the other. I brush his hand on the way down, as it dangles off of the bed.

I shiver from the slight contact, and I'm desperate for him not to notice. He looks over my head, his options of scenery are limited and his blue eyes land on me again.

He clears his throat when his voice comes out strangled," What's your name. Seeing you already know mine."

I shift on my knees, the pressure of the stones underneath them hurting,"128."

He exhales a sigh, the action intensifying the pain of his back," No, your name. What they called you before you came here."

I reach up to his back smoothing the bandages, as some of the edges have started to curl, I keep my eyes on my task, trying to keep my voice detached," My mother called me Daria."

I glance down to his face to see if I'm hurting him further by reapplying the cloth and tape, a small smile forms at his lips," It's nice to meet you,Daria."

I shake my head, taking my spot back down beside him, at his eye level," Why is it so important for you to know everyone's birth names and not their designation, their code names?"

He raises an eyebrow at me, I shrug," 193 told me of how insistent you are about names," his eyes wander a bit," Carr."

"Oh yes, him."

I gather my hair to one side, smoothing it down, he watches my movement," So, why is it so important to you to know our names?"

"This place takes everything from us. Our choices of what to wear, eat, sleep. A name can be your identity; it can be an extension of who you are. Refusing to give u something so minimal means you still have a grasp on who you are, it's something they can't touch. And with holding something so small can lead to regaining other things which hold more value."

I tilt my head, my brow rising this time," You get all that from refusing to use designations?"

"Yes, I do."

I look down to his wrist, and see the deep lacerations there. The gauze and medications had been pushed under the bed along with the bowl of water and wash cloth. I reach forward, having to lay my cheek on his arm to reach it.

My fingers stretch for the things, when one by one I pull them free. The water in the bowl has become a bit cold by now; it's a light pink color from the blood before. I wring out the cloth, and press it to his wrist, whipping the dried blood free. He keeps silent, watching me closely. I want to shrink under his gaze, but I have to hold my ground not letting his effect me.

I have to press hard to rid the skin of blood, and he flexes his fingers out. I mumble an apology, which earns me a small grin. I hate how distracting he is, but I try not to let him detect this.

I clear my throat trying to take my mind off of my hand once again against his skin," So, what earned you a position between the whipping posts so soon? Was it because of what you did to Cray?"

He narrows his eyes, "How do you know about that?"

A smirk comes to my lips, a small laugh escaping," Are you kidding? The whole farm knows about it. It was noble what you did, but I'm afraid it was an empty gesture. He'll be back at it again, once his jaw isn't wired shut."

"Then next time I'll have to hit him harder. Perhaps aim lower?"

"Maybe."

"It wasn't because of Cray," he swallows his eyes looking above my head once again," Snow wants me to compete in the arena. I refused."

"Why?"

His eyes find mine; they're blazing with anger, "Because I'm not his damn attack dog! I won't murder someone because he's bored!"

I still my hands, placing them on his arm," You need to settle down or you'll tear your stitches. And you will fight because no one around here denies Elective Snow of what he wants. We all have things we'd rather not do, but doing them is how we survive. And if you really have a death wish by denying him, then maybe I should have left you out in the mud to drown."

"I can't think that way."

"Of course," I nod my own anger rushing out, I go back to my job at hand, moving my face close to his," because you're so much more honorable and noble than the rest of us trash."

"Does this have to do with Mellark? Because since I've arrived here, I cease to exist and everything I am is about being his son. I don't know the man, I've never met him. I just found out he's my birth father a few years ago."

I back up to where I was, placing the cloth into the water, reaching for the gauze. I unwind it, tearing off a long piece, before lifting his wrist up, wrapping it quickly.

"I'm sorry. It was rude of me to lash out at you."

"It's fine."

I finish wrapping and secure the gauze with a piece of tape. His face is flushed, and I smooth the bandage down with my thumbs.

"So you must not know what Thread took it so hard on you then?"

Brenton closes his eyes," I have no idea. It's safe to say he and I won't be braiding each other's hair soon."

"The scars on his face?"

"Yh, those are pretty gross."

"Your father, umm Peeta, gave them to him."

His eyes open quickly," What?"

I nod," Yes. The story goes he encountered Thread while smuggling some codes through a district. It was the first time anyone tangled with Thread and got away to live another day. Thread lost his post over it; Snow demoted him and made him his personal attack dog. There's a lot of bad blood between him and Peeta Mellark. And I'm afraid you're the closest thing to-"

"I'm the closest thing to releasing his revenge. If you can't punish the father go for the son. Nice I'm paying for things I've never knew happened and a man I've never met."

Brenton closes his eyes, I move my hand up to the side of his head, running my fingers over his scalp, and he opens his eyes to watch me, as I watch my fingers trace the light scars I find on his skin. We stay like this for hours before I have to go to my own bed in the girl's barracks. I ask Keeper Darius to watch him, while he sleeps. I walk down the hallway, wishing I could have stayed.

* * *

004F.

The brick wall is slick from the rain, causing her to almost lose her footing. She stops her ascent, gaining her footing more securely, before starting again, the last thing she needs is to fall twenty feet to the ground. She places her hands up the length they'll go to the full extent, willing her legs to continuing climbing.

She finally reaches the top, swinging her legs over to scale down the other side. It doesn't take her long to slide down half of it; her boots hit the ground with a quiet thud. She keeps hunched down, reaching behind her to pull her black blade from the waist line of her paints. The woman scans the area for the guard shifts she knows to be present.

She's grateful for the cover of night, the cool air whips around her body, her dark hair tickling the side of her face. She's glad she had begun wearing her hair shorter than she had when she was younger. Her dark thick hair sets on her shoulders, blending into the black turtle neck she has on. She looks to each side before running to the nearest wall to secure her chance of not being seen.

Half crouched she reaches the wall, placing her hands flat on the brick. She leans to the side to get a view of what's ahead. The crackling of radios gets her attention, as two heavily armed guards in black, circle the perimeter. She can see them walk toward where she's hiding behind the wall, she quickly moves to the far side, walking on only the tips of her toes.

She reaches the far side before one of the guards rounds the corner. She knows if she's spotted here, she's as good as dead.

She backs up against the corner of the wall, looking to her left to where an entry door is located. It's about a hundred yards from her, and she knows the likely hood of not being seen is minimal. The odds are against her, but her determination has carried her this far, so what would be the point to stop now? If she can't bring her son back home, there's no reason for her to go anyway. She knows the repercussions of approaching the building.

Everything she had feared for the last thirteen years was about to hit her head on, and she wasn't completely sure she was ready for it. She gripped the blade in her hand, pushing off the wall with her heels. She ran, her breathing quicken as she zig zagged through the maze of walls, stopping at each corner to wait for the guard rotation.

The quiver at her back rocked side to side with each motion, and her bow slinged over her shoulder knocked into her sides. Her hair blew forward as she stopped quickly; gravel lurched forward as she skidded slightly. One of the guards must have doubled back, his footsteps alarming her. She knew she had to at least get out of the maze of walls, seeing there would be difficulties towards her defending herself when she needed to.

The walls were far too close together, and she would be on an on far advantage, not that she wasn't to begin with. The sounds of the radio were beginning to become louder and she could guess his approximate distance from her by how many of the clicks she was able to hear, a trick she had learned from her father and passed on to her son, which was another reason why the predicament they were in was even more ludicrous.

She breathed in deep before she slinked around another corner of the wall, backing up against the stones before she was positive the guard was pass her. The clicking sounds have started to wean, as she listens for any another noises. When she comfortable with the silence around her, she makes a dash for the far wall, there's less cover and she knows she's going to be out in the open.

Her hands reach the wall before the rest of her body, and the steel of the blade dings against the stone. This alarms her and she scans the area around her to see if she alerted anyone around her. She mentally kicks herself for being so careless, and tucks the blade against the skin of her wrist, her fingers wrapping around the handle. This one wall is longer than the others, and she knows she has less time between the intervals of when the guards make their check points.

The amount of movement by the men, and how much they have been making their rounds, assures her of the heightened security the grounds have. She sighs, being careful not to be too loud, more aggressive security means paranoia, which is the last thing she needs when encountering a base full of men and women who are at least if not better equipped at defending theme selves.

She brushes her hair from her face, the wind has picked up and the whistling rides through the area, this may actually be in her favor, the wind hiding some of her sounds. She paces her blade hand on her wall, jogging to the far end, as footsteps come closer to her. She wills herself to stay calm, becoming frantic only clouds the mind and ensures you'll end up dead.

It seconds after she rounds the wall, before the next guard walks on the other end. She's grateful she never allowed herself to become out of shape, and she wonders for a second if she knew this would happen someday. She pushes the thought from her mind, knowing now isn't the time to start down such a path, right now she's trying not to get shot. She surveys her surroundings, there's a group of trees about forty yards in front of her, the maze cluster of walls now behind her.

There's no time to hesitate now, now when she's come so far. She moves her head to the side, working out the muscles in her neck and shoulders, she breathes in deep knowing her chance to make it to the trees for cover is already fleeting.

With a push off from her heels she runs the forty yards, willing herself not to look back, to only keep her attention on the space in front of her. She finally makes it to the trees, hiding behind one, as she peers over the side to ensure none of the guards had spotted her. She leans her head against the trunk, her breathing starting to become erratic, as she closes her eyes, telling herself to calm down.

When her pulse starts to steady as much as it will, based on the heightened doses of adrenaline flowing through her now, she straightens her back, the bark flaking off onto her shirt. The blade presses into her skin, and it's a reminder for her to press forward.

She releases a deep breath through slightly open lips, before she releases from the tree, weaving through the cluster of trees. It takes her a few minutes of stopping at each one, scanning the area for guard patrols, before she moves on to the next. She notes how strange it is, that the easily shielded wooded area isn't flanked with patrols, and this is when it hits her, they're waiting for her to fully show herself. It's a trap and it's laid for her, she curls her fingers over the handle of her blade.

She breaths in through her nostrils, exhaling through her mouth. She knows she has to move forward, making it to the front is the only way she will be seen fully, and if she doesn't get his attention, she may be shot. She doesn't blame him for his diligence, if her death was Snows number one priority, she too would be as zealous about security.

Her free hand pressed into the trunk, her nails scraping the bark. She breathed once more, releasing the tree, preparing herself for an attack. It was now or never, as she pushed away from the tree, leaving the shelter of the trees. She was now running in the clearing in front of the building and she was acutely aware of how exposed she was. She could see the back door from where she was, her legs picked up the speed as she neared the building.

She can almost see the light casted down from the over head grounds lights, and she knows as soon as she can be seen the better, because if she knows Haymitch at all, she knows he trains others to be vigilant about their surroundings and anyone who tries to enter it.

She can almost feel a sigh of relief coming from her lips when she's knocked over to the side, her body rolling into a summersault before she makes it back to her feet, the blade at her wrists now poised out in front of her. She can barely make out her opponent, but the gleam from the axe is more than recognizable.

Her bow is still slung around her body, but she doesn't have enough time to load the arrow before the figure lunges forward swinging the axe to her face, the women bends back, the sharp blade sweeping just in front of the tip of her nose. She can barely see the wielder of the axe, as she bares her heel down on their foot earning a loud yelp, before she punches their jaw with her left hand to slash their cheek with the blade in her right.

The contact of the blade to skin is deep enough to cause a slight sound, as the figure rears back and kicks her square in the stomach. She doubles over, as she flies back, her body landing in the light.

She jumps to her feet, as the figure comes barreling into the light their weapon rose. A women with short dark hair, cut to the scalp almost, rushes to her, pure anger surging. She steps to the side grabbing her weapon arm, forcing the arm down as she pushed the edge of the weapon to collide with the women's face, her body falling to the ground.

She takes this advantage to pull her bow from her body, and reach back to perch an arrow against the nock, her blade tossed to the side. The women springs up, fully intending to attack before she sees the point of the arrow, a short distance from her throat.

She feels at ease only a bit before she hears the clicking of the safety latch of at least five rifles. The short haired woman stands up wiping the saliva from her mouth, but the arrow is still pointed to strike. The men behind the guns order for her to stand down, but she keeps her composure.

Her voice is hoarse from the running and altercation," I need to see Peeta Mellark."

"Who?"

"I know he's here."

A few more guns begin to click, and she acutely aware of a few snipers perched up on the ledge of the building. She sighs, lowering her weapon, the arrow relaxing, as she places the bow along with it on the ground. She short haired woman picks up the weapon walking behind her, the woman is ready for at least a knock upside the head but she's surprised with nothing happens. Her sense of relief flees when she feels the barrel of a gun against her back.

His voice comes out deeper than she remembered, but she couldn't ever forget the tones of his voice," Who are you?"

The woman puts her hands up turning slowly around," Honestly, I'm hurt you don't recognize me, even from the back."

His blue eyes are wide, his voice comes out huskier than before," Katniss?"

Katniss lets out a breath of relief," Hi, Peeta."

* * *

**A/N: I'm continuing to post the chapters, I hope to have the entire story posted by tonight. I hope everyone is enjoying it, and as always Reviews are Love!**

-Stace


	5. Chapter 5

****Rated Adult for Violence, and Language.

**005A **

The glowing yellow light from the overhead lamps blur her vision, as she looks upon the boy she used to know who has become a man. His eyes are the same, but he wears his blonde hair shorter, almost cut to the scalp the front a bit longer. A two inch scar runs down his face just below the ear lobe to trail along his jaw line. He's fit and even in the poor lighting, she can see his plain black t-shirt form to his shoulders and chest. He looks shocked, his hands moving on the gun. Katniss keeps her hands up, her elbows tight on her side.

"You want to lower the gun? It's distracting."

Peeta's face is perplexed as he lowers his weapon," What the hell are you doing here?"

Katniss nodded behind him toward the armed guns," Do you think you can tell them to stand down?"

Peeta turned toward the wall of armed guards behind him," Lower them."

Katniss sighed, pulling the hem of her shirt down around her waist," I need your help."

Peeta turned back around leaning to the side to peer around her, his eyes scanning the darkness behind her," Where's Brenton?"

Katniss swallowed down the tears threatening to choke her," Peeta-"

"Where is he?"

"They've taken him. He's at a camp as we speak."

Peeta's eyes widen, his look far off," What?"

"I tracked their movement a thousand yards outside the East camp. He's there…with Snow."

Peeta ran his hand over his face," They'll run a DNA sequence on him; they'll know he's mine," Peeta closed the gap between he and Katniss," Why did you let this happen?"

"I didn't let this happen, and how dare you accuse me. I wouldn't have come here if I didn't need to."

The shuffling of feet reminded Peeta, of the others standing behind him. He glanced, to each side lowering his head to turn back towards Katniss, his voice low.

"Can we not do this in front of everyone?"

"You run the place, I'm just a visitor."

Peeta nods keeping his eyes from hers, "Johanna make sure everyone gets back to their posts."

The dark haired woman wipes the sweat above her lip with her forearm," Yes, sir."

Peeta signals for Katniss to follow him with his pointer finger, as she proceeds to walk behind him inside the building. Johanna glares as Katniss who simply smiles at her, a curt shrug causing her hair to fall at her back.

Peeta holds the large metal door open for her, allowing Katniss to walk by. The hallway is narrow and the walls seem to span up at least twenty feet. The structure is metal like the door and the deep gray bounces off the overhead lights, the shine of the material almost too bright.

Katniss keeps her back straight, as Peeta comes up behind her, his left hand finding the small of her back. She allows him to lead her to the far door at the back of the hallway. Her muddy boots produce a clicking sound which resounds through the hallway. She doesn't dare sneak a look at his face, as anxiety has almost nearly choked her.

They finally reach the door, a key pad is located to the upper right, and Peeta leans over to the side to press in a sequence of numbers. His shoulder brushes hers and she's upset by how much her body tingles when he's next to her, even after all these years. The door gives a long stream of beeps before it opens with a loud click, Peeta pushes it open waiting for her to step in.

Katniss walks through the door hesitantly, as Peeta rushes past her. When she's fully in the room she looks around, the same shiny metal forms the walls of the room much like the hallway. It's scarcely furnished with only a bed in the middle, which looks to be barely lived in, and a graphing table against the wall.

A makeshift closet is set against the far wall; she looks over to Peeta who has walked to the other side of the room, wringing his hands. He's pacing the floor, his irritation and fear clear.

"How did it happen? We did everything to make sure this never happened?"

The question caught her off guard slightly," The best I can guess is he went looking for you. I tracked him to district twelve; I guess he thought you may be there."

Peeta stilled his movement, looking to her," Why?"

Katniss sighed, leaning her head back," He found some of your things, your picture, a few years back. He knows you're his father. He's been insistent the last few years, I kept pushing it back, but he got inpatient."

Katniss leaned her head forward, having it hang towards her chest. Her body ached and the adrenaline from before was wearing off causing her to be aware of her exhaustion. She stood there not moving, afraid to even breathe. Peeta had started to pacing again, rubbing his face with his right hand while the left took to his neck.

Katniss voice came out as a whisper, as tears crawled up into her throat," Are they going to kill him?"

This stopped him in his tracks as he walked over to her, the distance felt more than the few steps it took him to reach her. Her dark hair had fallen around her face, Peeta reached out to her gathering the strands. This caused her to look up, as he laid the collection of her hair to one side.

"Snow knows how valuable he is. He won't risk killing him in private. He'll use this for all it's worth."

"What do you mean?"

Peeta's eyes became blurry and Katniss could feel her own well up," Snow will use him in the arena."

Katniss couldn't help the gasp escaping her lips as her legs fell out underneath her, Peeta took hold of her sides before she fell to the floor. Katniss gripped onto the material of his shirt, her cries coming out as strangled bursts.

She tucked her head underneath his chin, as the anxieties of the last few days rushed out of her. Peeta gritted his teeth, willing his own panic and grief to be pushed down inside him. He held onto her tightly, lowering their bodies onto the floor of his living quarters. It already felt as though they were mourning the death of their son.

* * *

005B.

_**Brenton**_

The room I've been staying in for the last two days is damp; the gray bricks seem to hold in the water in the air, causing the room to be a few degrees colder than outside of it. I sit up from the mattress; my muscles are sore and unrelenting.

The wounds on my back have started to heal faster than I imagined, and I assume it has to do with the ointment Daria has been covering them with. The routine is always the same, she comes in around mid-morning to change my bandages, usually nothing is said and I'm too afraid to break the silence. However, I can't help but want to touch her, feel her skin with my finger tips.

I even dream about her, the deep green of her eyes burning through me. I can't almost breath when she's in the room, it's as though all the air has left the room. I have to stop thinking about her, since our last talk she has distanced herself and I need to respect her boundaries.

The bandages on my back are tight and the tape doesn't relent. I swing my legs over the edge to reach for the new shirt I was assigned, since my last one was cut from body and thrown into the mud. The material is as stiff as the one before, and I unbutton the front. Slipping my arms through the sleeves, I'm careful to not break open my stitches. Some of the lashes were deeper than others, resulting in Daria having to suture some.

The fabric falls on my back and I'm happily surprised the pain isn't more painful than I assumed. The fabric still irritates the sensitive skin of my back, and I flex the muscles in my back trying to free them of their stiffness. I button up the front of my shirt, and stand slowly, my feet landing on the cold cement floor.

My pants are still on from this morning when Daria came to check on me, I can remember her blushing, if only for a second, over my naked body. I had been sleeping, and the underwear I had been issued was stained with blood.

The thin sheet had been covering the lower half of my body; she had woken me by throwing my pants between my legs. Her dark had whipped in the air as she turned around waiting for me to dress.

I shake my head at the memory of her with her arms crossed, as I bend down slowly for my boots, slipping my feet into them. The insides are still a bit wet, and I hope I don't get an affection on my feet. There's a bang at the door, signaling for me to hurry up.

I was informed the night before my time of rest was going to end soon, and I was expected to act as any other code would, I wasn't an exception even if I was nearly killed by whipping. The metal door opens with a creak and the red headed Keeper from before, Darius I believe his name is, waves me on.

I nod shoving my hands into my pockets, as every step feels heavy, and I'm terrified of what Snow has planned for me next. The hallway is as dark as my cell however streams of light shows through the cracks of the brick walls, and it's almost poetic to me, light showing through the darkness. It reminds me of something my mother would tell me, and the thought of her makes my stomach fall.

Keeper Darius walks me to the adjoining hallway where I can see a crowd of codes being marched into the courtyard, some turn and stare at me, while others ignore my very presence.

The natural light is nearly blinding since it's been days since I've been in direct contact of the sun. I'm pushed into the cluster of boys, I almost lose my footing, my knees sticking out forward before my feet can follow them.

I gain control quickly, as I look back at Darius who keeps his expression unreadable, although his eyes look worried, this in return doesn't settle my ongoing anxiety. I follow the flow of the crowd, passing underneath a high archway. I'm forced to move forward by the others behind me, and I have no choice to keep moving.

I look over to my left as soon as my feet hit the dirt, and I notice a similar mass of girls are heading in the direction as the boys. I crane my neck over the boys ahead of me, which isn't hard seeing most of them are shorter than I am.

I can easily see the posts, I was not so long ago strapped too, and the bile in my stomach begins to rise. I try to square my shoulders, even though they keep hunching over involuntarily.

When the mass of people walk past the posts, I exhale a breath far too loudly. I relax a bit, but my relief is short lived when I spot the silver head of hair of Elective Snow over the crowd.

His suit is pressed, a wrinkle not in sight, as the dark blue gleams with the sunlight bouncing off of it. He's standing a measurable distance from any of the codes, and I suppose this is not to sully his appearance by being in close proximity to those he sees as expendable.

The crowd of boys is being pushed into the girls who are to the left of the courtyard, as Keepers aim their weapons toward us, our bodies press into one another, as grunts of being uncomfortable rise up amongst the crowd. I'm less concerned about being trampled than I am of belonging to a mass grave, when the Keepers continue to raise their guns at us.

I'm looking for an exit strategy, when finally we're allowed to stay where he stand cramped, and the Keepers as each side move to the front to where Snow and Thread stand. I can't help but avert my eyes from Thread, I'm sorry to admit but I have a solid fear of him.

I scan the crowd for Daria, many of the faces I encounter are nervous and I can't quite decipher if it's because of the threat of being shot or if I'm the one looking towards them. I try to ignore the occasional glare I'm given, desperately needing to find a head of dark wavy hair.

It takes me a few minutes to finally spot her, she has her head lowered, she appears to be whispering to the pair of little girls, who can't be more than twelve, who cling to her sides, and each has a handful of the hem of her shirt in their palm.

I keep my eyes on her, trying to memorize every curve of her profile, slowly as if she can sense me, Daria locks eyes with mine, and I can't bring myself to break the connection. We stay this way for awhile, it's as though we can communicate by a stare. She looks worried, and I want nothing more than to go comfort her. Finally she's the one to break the stare and I feel a bit empty inside.

I can see her shifting from side to side, and I'm beginning to join her in the overwhelming anxiety. My attention is torn from her, as I hear a commotion before me, the shifting of bodies alert me. I see one of the Keepers pushing aside the codes in front of me, and my stomach lurches as it's clear he's heading towards me.

I try to stand my ground as he nears me, reaching out for my collar, tugging on it harshly. At first I try to resist, digging my heels into the ground, fed up with having to use energy to pull me forward, the Keeper slammed the butt of his rifle into my stomach, causing me to double over. The pain in my back burns now, and I hope I haven't busted a stitch.

I try to hold my ground but the pain of all my injuries is too much and it's hard for my mind to concentrate on anything but.

My body is easily manipulated by the Keeper, as we move through the crowd, each body in our way parts without fail. I try to keep my expression stoic, but I'm afraid my fear is showing through. My legs have started to drag; it's become difficult for me to keep up with the Keeper, and now dust covers the lower half of my legs.

We finally make it to the front of the crowd, and I'm pushed out from the other boys, to land on my knees in front of Elective Snow and Head Keeper Thread. I lay my hands on my knees, struggling to stand up, as I feel a wet spot forming at my back. The pain is almost blinding and I'm more than positive I've busted a stitch. I breathe in slowly, as I stand up facing Snow.

The sickly sweet smell of roses mixes in with the musky stench of the courtyard, with at least a thousand children pushed together who're not able to take sufficient baths, the odor washes over me, the mixture excruciating, and I want to double over and vomit.

Snow eyes me and I grit my teeth, part my lips and smile. He keeps studying me, and I force myself to relax my body. I push my pain deep down, wanting to seem unfazed by his abuse.

"How long has it been since you've been down in the muck? Aren't you afraid of getting your suit dusty? The dry cleaning can be a bitch."

Snow keeps his shoulders back gracing a smile on his lips as they curl up, I can see a small spot of blood caught in each corner. I keep my eyes trained on Snow, not wanting to exchange with Thread yet.

Snow leans in, wanting our conversation to be between us. The stench of blood and roses is excruciating, the odor isn't helping my fight to keep in the bile in my throat from rising up.

"You are very much like your father. Harm towards you personally doesn't seem to get the job done. You are a very hard nut to crack, but as you've come to realize, I am a very determined man when I set my mind to something."

I lean back a bit, he only follows me with his eyes, and I can't help the feeling of crisis washing over me. Snow smiles once again, the arms of his suit jacket wrinkling a bit from his posture.

"And I always get what I want," Snow straightens his back, nodding towards Thread who hasn't taken his eyes from him, "Always."

Thread walks over to a line of Keepers positioned in front of the gathering of girls. His back is turned to me, not allowing me to hear him or read his lips. The Keepers nod in unison, and each one walks into the crowd of female codes pulling one to the front.

A few start to struggle but for the most part all of them are compliant, which is troubling to me, no fight usually means no spirit. I can't take my eyes off the Keepers holding tight to their appointed girl, my eyes franticly search the line for Daria, praying she hasn't been chosen.

I try not to show my relief knowing Snow has been watching me closely. Thread is giving orders, as each Keeper lines up one female in a line, having them face the crowd. Snow turns his body from me, only his profile showing from where I stand. Thread calmly walks to the girl on the far left, as he reaches for his side arm, pulling it from his waist line.

He extends his right arm quickly, dispensing a round into the forehead of the small girl, her blonde hair flies out into the air by the pure force of the bullet entering her skull. Her body folds into itself landing on the ground, dirt springs up, a cloud washing over her.

I can't help but react with shock, as the crowd behind me gasps, and there's cries ringing out. I turn back to Snow, who keeps his posture straight looking on to the line of the remaining girls.

My voice is strained," What are you doing? Stop!"

"I will get what I want."

Snow nods to Thread who has already begun to stand in front of the next girl, her body is shaking, and her bright red braids fall behind her back. I let out a breath remembering her as the little from before, the one I had given an apple to. She's visibly shaking now; her little hands are trembling, as Thread raises his gun once more.

I try to yell out before the next shot rings out, her body joining the one before her. The other girls have tried to run away but the Keepers behind them keep their feet in place. A pool of blood has settled under most of their feet, forming around the soles of their boots. I turn body to Snow sharply, my eyes are blazing I'm sure.

"WHY? Is this all to ensure I'll fight?"

Snow turns to me, his eyes cold," Haven't you been paying attention? This has all been about you."

I open my mouth to respond, when I catch a streak of dark hair out of the corner of my eye. I whip my head over to my left, as Daria rushes to where the girls are, forcing her body in between the remaining codes and Thread pistol.

My legs are like led, as I run over to where Thread is pointing the barrel of his gun to her forehead. I nearly knock her over, finding it hard to stop so quickly. I'm at her side but she keeps her attention to Thread, her back is straight, as she has her shoulder firmly pushed back.

Her voice tight and unwavering," They're just little girls."

Thread presses the barrel to her skin, a red ring forming," But you're not? Are you?"

A glance back to Snow who has remained still, I'm panicking now, as I turn back to Daria, her green eyes are narrowed. It comes out as a choke, my voice caught in my throat as I shout out.

"No! Stop! I'll do it. I'll compete. Just don't…please."

Daria has started to tremble, but I can see her jaw tighten as she tries to calm her body. I have to admire her courage, although it only makes me acutely aware of my own cowardness. I brush my fingers against hers trying to give her some kind of comfort, a reminder I'm near, but she pulls away from me, knotting her fingers in the hem of her shirt.

I try to ignore the brush off, and turn my attention back to Thread who still has his gun pressed against her skin. He keeps his dark eyes trained on her, and I think I see a smile coming forming at his lips. My anxiety has only begun to rise further, and I have to stop myself from being frantic. I turn back to Snow; his posture is as calm as it always is.

"You've gotten what you want; now tell your attack dog to stand down!"

Snow takes in a deep breath, his face unreadable," Is this so?"

"Yes!"

Snow gives out a laugh, and it makes my blood rush," I find I'm becoming fond of you asking me politely. Ask me please again."

My eyes fall and I know when I've been beaten," Please."

Snow lets out an even louder laugh which echoes through the courtyard, I try to keep my shoulders back but I feel ashamed and my back falters for a second. Snow nods to Thread who lowers his weapon holstering it, I turn back around my eyes on Thread.

He quickly grabs Daria by the collar, she tries to keep her feet planted but he throws her into the nearby crowd of codes. She skitters to a stop before knocking most of them to the ground, I can feel her eyes on me but I keep my eyes averted from her not wanting to see her disappointment in me.

I stand there silently, not wanting to move as I hear Snow shout orders to the Keepers to move the other children into their barracks and holding cells. The courtyard is eerily quiet, as I look down to the two tiny bodies a few feet in front of me.

The trail of blood has run over the earth mixing in with the dirt. I tense when I can sense someone beside me, the sickly smell of roses assaults me, and I have to fight from striking him. He leans down to my ear, his breath warm, making me want to vomit.

"You're father would have never caved so easily. Perhaps you're not half the man he is?"

I closed my eyes shut, willing the anger and tears down inside of me. Snow chuckles once again, knowing he's gotten the best of me. I open my eyes, as I hear his footsteps; they begin to fade into the distance. At last it's only Thread and I who remain; he's looking down to the bodies smiling bright.

He can feel me staring at him, as he looks up towards me. He's still smiling, the scars on his face jagged and easily spotted, as he closes the gap between us, I stand my ground.

"I can't believe you broke over a couple of dead little bitches. Or was it the one I was pressing my gun to?"

I step forward, my face inches from his," You and I will have our time, and then I can finish what my father started with your face."

We stand there for a few more seconds studying the others face, until I break the contact, turning on my heel to walk through the courtyard to the nearby corridors. I can feel the tears rising up my body, but I grind my teeth, pushing my feelings deeps down. I know what I have to do, to survive and allowing my emotions to control me will only hinder me. I have to become what I've feared for the last few years. I have to become my father.

* * *

005C.

_**Daria**_

My hands have continued to shake for the last twenty minutes; the thought of the feel of the barrel of Thread's gun against my skin hasn't left me and has only gotten worse. I tried not to look down at the bodies as I left the courtyard, but I couldn't stop myself from taking one last look. I had taken most of the younger girls back to the barracks, half were deep into having panic attacks, the cries rose up through the cold brick rooms, and I had to quiet each of them down before a Keeper came in.

Finally, I had successfully gotten everyone calmed down, and I began my search through the corridors looking for him. I wanted to reach out for him when our fingers brushed against one another, but I knew how dangerous it was to show concern or affection for him. I wanted to strike him for being so careless, how open he made himself for Snow to see the perfect way to manipulate him.

Brenton is raw emotions and honor, and I want to curse him for being something so rare, someone Snow could use for his own devices. It takes me awhile before I spot him, leaning over the side wall; a small patch of grass is located down below.

His back is to me and I can see a deep brown spot located at the middle of his back, most likely one of his stitches must have broken open earlier. His fingers are digging into the stones of the wall, and I can easily see his arms tremble, the spasms of his body threaten to make him lose his footing.

I quicken my pace towards him as I don't try to silence my footsteps, the clicking of heels easily heard through the stones forming the walls. He swings around quickly, his posture defensive ready for an attack.

Realization washes over his face when he sees me and his body relaxes, he wipes his mouth on his sleeve, as I approach him. His eyes look hollow and he opens his mouth to speak, as I slap him hard across the cheek.

His head whips to the side, but retracts quickly; his face is covered in shock. My anger and grief are running through my body, and all I want to do is take it out on him. I know he isn't the true perpetrator of my pain, but I want to have him feel as much as I am right now.

I strike out again pushing my hands into his chest, making him back into the ledge behind him. He doesn't try to defend himself, as I beat on his chest, tears blurring my vision. My hands feel numb after a few minutes of beating into his chest, and he grabs my arms tucking them in between our bodies as he pulls me to him.

He smells of dirt and sweat and a deep musk which only belongs to him and for a minute I'm lost in it. However, my anger won't subside and I push him away, his face is flushed and pained.

"Daria-"

My voice is raw and hoarse," Why did you let this happen?"

The shock on his face is unmistakable," What?"

"You went up against Snow and Thread on your own! What did you think would happen? That he would only come after you?"

"I didn't think-"

I nod, my tears fall from my eyes running down my cheeks," You're right you didn't think! You live in this little world where honor and words mean something, but this is reality and none of your values matter! You killed those little girls because of your ego, your enemies won't always attack you directly and the rest of us suffer!"

I can see his rage wash over him, and I want to take my words back," There's already suffering here, or are you too numb to all of it!"

"And who are you? The great crusader given the task to save us all? You're not a hero Brenton. You're just a boy with the unlucky fortune to have the leader of the resistance as your father."

He points his finger at me and I can see his own tears falling," Don't attack me, because you've given up!"

"I've come to terms with reality."

I can see him ready to blow, as he turns his back to me punching the nearby wall, I jump slightly my body wracking with sobs. His body is heaving, his breathing coming out in short bursts.

"I was trying to save you. I only wanted to help; I couldn't let him shoot you!"

"I don't need you to save me."

Brenton turns back to face me, his face is unreadable, and I feel helpless to change the effect I've had on him. We stand there watching each other for the longest time before; I turn around walking down the hallway. I can feel his eyes on me, but I keep my gaze forward, rounding the next corner.

When I'm sure, I'm safely out of his range of sight, I lean up against the wall, slowly sliding down the wall, my body falling to the ground. I try to fight back the tears racking my body, but my exhaustion has set in and I'm powerless against it. I'm more ashamed of what I've just done to Brenton than I've been of anything else.

I've done my part in breaking him, when all I really wanted was for him to hold me. I hang my head forward; my dark hair covers my face, as I let the grief of the day take me over.

* * *

005D.

_**Brenton**_

The walls are covered with the reflective white tile, which also lines the walls of the labs. I've been waiting in the room for at least half an hour. After my run in with Daria, a Keeper had come for me escorting me into the cluster of buildings where Snow's office is located. At first I was afraid; he hadn't gotten his fill of manipulating me from before.

I had tried to resist when I pushed into the room, but the incentive of a gun firing off in my direction gave me pause. There's a long leather table located in the middle of the room, with a tray of tools beside it. I decided sitting on the floor was a safer bet than sitting next to the items which could ultimately cause me even more physical pain.

My injuries are starting to affect me even more than before and it's excruciating to even lean my back up against the tile. The material where the blood has dried rubs against my back, and it doesn't help the throbbing pain from the broken stitch. My anxiety has hit an all time high, and my expectations are bleak, as I wait in a room far too bright.

I almost have to laugh at the irony of the situation. I knock my head against the wall repeatable; I can't get the image of Daria looking at me broken, out of my head. When Thread had his gun trained on her my entire body froze, it was as if the world had stopped and everything was in slow motion.

The door opening causes me to jump and I brace my hands on the wall rising myself up. I'm taken aback by a man with orange hair, his suit is as colorful as his hair, a swirl of purple and orange thread makes the outfit. His stature is skinny and lanky and I'm not sure how to react to someone who looks the way he does.

However, it isn't long before I'm further floored by two women who follow him into the room. The curvier one has bright aqua hair, which seems to span out every which way, and the other has golden markings curving over her features, each is wearing dresses which are too tight, the colors just as blinding as the man's suit.

All three are busy opening cases they had carried in, and rearranging the items on the metal table next to the leather bench in the middle of the room. I stand unmoving next to the wall, contemplating if it's feasible for me to sneak out of the open door. I take a step towards the door, and as if on cue each hunched over body straightens and turns to me.

I'm confused to move or stay still when the woman with the unruly hair walks over to me. She has a bright smile and the purple in her eyes are distracting. She stops inches in front of me, lifting my arms up over my head, I keep them there are she runs her hands over my chest, my eyes dart from side to side confused.

The one with the markings on her face follows the others lead running her bright green hands over my arms, she stops short at my face tracing her nails over my features. It's unsettling how they seem to be studying me, but I keep my refusals to myself. The man just watches from afar, and I'm worried what the end result will be.

The woman tracing my face stops short and gives me a light slap to the face, it's more playful than assaulting and I have to blink. The other has stopped touching my chest, and I'm happy to have their roaming hands away from me. I lower my arms slowly, the pain in my back intensifying.

The one who had slapped me is staring at me in awe, as the other is shaking her head, her eyes are wide.

"He looks just like him."

"Yes, the eyes."

I keep glancing between each of them, and I'm completely caught off guard. The man comes to middle of them pushing each woman to the side. He leans into me and he smells faintly like cinnamon. I have to lean back to stop his nose from pressing against mine.

I'm uncomfortable by their close proximity, especially the man's, as my shoulders tense and I'm concerned with not falling to the floor. The man shakes his head along with the wild haired woman. He places his hands on each side of his face perplexed.

"It's so strange seeing the same place on every jumbotron posting for the last seventeen years, and now to see it on an entirely different person."

The woman with the gold engravings lightly touches my cheek bones," The bone structure is different, so is the skin tone."

I glance to each face quickly as they observe and talk about me as if I'm not present. The woman with the hair bites a tip of one of her fingers.

"He is fetching though. Isn't he?"

I stare at her wide eyed as the man nods," Quite."

The one with the markings agrees," Oh, yes. He'll bring in very high numbers, and not because of his name. He is very nice to look at."

The man slaps his hands together," Imagine what he'll look like when we clean him up. Exceptionally ravishing."

The women giggle in unison, and my stomach lurches. The man turns on his heel flourishing his hand in the air.

"Strip him down; we need to see what we're working with."

I nearly choke on the saliva in my mouth," Excuse me?"

I'm ignored as the two women pull me to the center of the room, undressing me. I try to resist at first, but their fingers are nimble, and I almost burst out in laughter, my sides becoming ticklish. The woman with the markings unbuttons my shirt quickly pushing it from my shoulders.

The fabric sticks to my back from where the blood had dried, I flinch slightly, my jaw tightening. She notices this moving behind me to slowly peel the fabric from my skin. I can hear her gasp and murmur about brutal treatment, as the fabric is thrown to the side. I'm far more concerned about the woman washed in green as she pulls my pants down.

I had forgotten about my lack of under clothing until the air of the room hit my bare skin. She gives out a light giggle as she pushes the pants down my legs. The other lifts the back of my legs up one at a time at the knee to pull off the over sized boots.

Soon I'm standing in the middle of an overly bright room, completely naked with three strangers circling me like birds of prey. I want to flinch or pull back when I feel hands pushing at my skin, or tracing the deep scars at my back.

I feel absolutely vulnerable and it outrages me. I close my eyes counting the seconds until it's done. I can hear them talking amongst themselves, I assume in front of me when I open my eyes.

The man walks over to a bright colored case pulling out a silver piece of metal, he turns it in his hand and I can see a bright blue light emanating from it. He picks up a slim pair of shears as he hums to himself walking behind me as the others busy themselves setting up different bottles of products and utensils.

I want to step away when his hand lands on my left shoulder, as I feel the stitches located at my back being cut. I start to protest when I feel a warm sensation moving down my back. I'm shocked by how much the pain in my back has lessened and move my right hand to my back.

He quickly slaps it away telling me to be patient. I can hear the device in his hands humming to the tune coming from his lips, the heat following. After a few minutes the man walks in front of me, the device still in his hands.

"You shouldn't have any more pain, but I'm afraid there will be visible scars, but I imagine it'll help your image in the arena. Roguish warrior and all, it is if you manage to stay alive after the first round. It's so awful when the attractive ones are killed early on."

The green washed woman clicks her tongue her face scrunched,"Flavius, you shouldn't say such things to the boy before he's even been introduced to the world."

Flavius nodded," Octavia you are right," he turns to me," I'm sure you're very…tough. Let's hope you're given a capable mentor."

The woman with the hair laughs sharply," I doubt it, with how Elective Snow feels about the boy's father."

Flavius turns on his heels," Venia bite your tongue."

I shake my head, "No, it's fine. She shouldn't be chastised for telling the truth."

Venia lays her hand on her cheek leaning to one side," I like him very much."

I try to manage a grin, but I'm still uncomfortable by my state of undress. Venia walks to me pulling me forward to where the leather bench is, as Octavia drapes a soft white robe around my shoulders. I put my arms through the wide sleeves happy to feel something on my skin which isn't made from sand paper.

I'm instructed to sit down, as Venia pulls my hands forward setting them in a clear bowl of solution. She goes to work on my finger nails scrubbing all of them with a small brush, as the others circle me rubbing products on my skin and moving my robe to where they need to reach.

After Venia has successfully cleaned all of the grim and blood from my fingernails and hands, the water a deep brown color, I'm instructed to lie on my stomach. My face is pressed into the leather; the smell almost overwhelms me when I feel a hard pinch at the top of my skull.

I move my hand to where I felt it and I'm shushed by Flavius.

"I hear you had glorious dark hair, it's a pity when they have to shave all of the hair off to protect against parasites and what not. However now, you should have hair growth quickly. It should be ready to style after we get you clothed."

I want to inquire about how this could even be possible, but I'm happy to at least have my hair returning. The soft robe is pulled from my body as I'm washed down by soft cloths, and another coat of product is rubbed into my skin. It takes a few minutes for the lotions and soaps to all dry on my skin, before I'm told to sit up.

Flavius walks up to the women handing them each a piece of clothing. The set is black and sleek, and I'm pleasantly surprised the fabric isn't colorful and insane. I'm dressed accordingly, with under clothing, and I'm taken back by how Venia lingers near the bottom half of my body when I'm being fitted. The slick fabric of the shirt clings to my body and the pants are a soft cotton blend I assume.

When both articles of clothing are on, I'm given a pair of black socks, and a pair of sharp looking black boots with buckles. I slip the socks on and then the boots, before I sit back down. Octavia rolls up the sleeves of my shirt, instructing me this will show off my muscles even more so, as Venia nods.

My scalp has started to tingle, and I'm shocked when a piece of hair touches the top of my ear. My hand shoots up to the top of my head, and I'm greeted with a handful of hair. I give off a relieved sigh, and I see Flavius smile.

"I just love your dark hair; it sets off those blue eyes."

"Thank you for giving me my hair back."

"Oh, don't thank me; it was Elective Snow who instructed us to do so, the same with the dark colors. If it was up to me you would have been in bright orange."

He gives me a wink and I'm confused on how to react," Why was it his idea."

Octavia busies herself with placing bottles into her carrying case," He wanted your clothing to match the image he has set up for you."

"What image?"

Flavius has started to cut away at some of my hair styling it appropriately," We don't know."

I let my mind wander as the prep team works on the finishing touches; it takes about a half hour before I'm allowed to look in the first mirror I've seen in days. I'm taken aback by how much I don't recognize myself; my hair is cut below my ears and slicked back.

The dark clothing sets off my blue eyes, and I can see a simmer of red coming from the fabric when I move. A knock at the door announces visitors as it opens silently. A pair of Keepers instructs the prep team it's time for me to make it to the stage, and my heart sinks. I walk around the standing mirror and keep my back straight as I walk pass the Keepers waiting for them to lead me on.

The hallways are brightly colored with the tapestries I've noticed around where Snow keeps. We're not down half of the hall before I can see a flashing of lights, and I suck in a deep breath before I'm pushed through an opening and onto a large stage.

Snow is standing at a podium, and there's a crowd of people ridiculously dressed in bright colors. Devices with lights are pointed toward me and I assume they're what I've heard called cameras. The crowd is a buzz with chatter and I can hear my name called, some are hissed and others in awe. Snow waves me on and tells me to stand on my mark which is located three feet from his left.

I glance over to the other side of Snow and I can see Heavensbee give me a look of concern. This confuses me, and I'm left wondering when I hear a loud countdown coming over the speakers.

A bright flash of light shines in my eyes and a myriad of lights go off nearly blinding me. I'm incoherent for a few seconds, until I can see Snow motioning to me, my name being drawled off of his sharp tongue.

"I have here our new competitor, but not just any competitor. This is the biological son of one Peeta Mellark, the scourge of everything we hold sacred in the Capitol," the chatter has formed into a booming of voices,"Brenton Mellark, the destroyer of worlds!"

I can't help but look to him, as he catches me a smile forming at his lips. I'm lost in my own mind as lights threaten to blind me, and I can hear threats being called out. I stand there for a while more, I estimate at least an hour before I'm pulled off stage and back into the hallway. Snow follows me, as I turn to him.

"Destroyer of worlds?"

Snow smiles," I found it to be inspired, case in point I've never seen the crowd so excited by a competitor before. It should be very entertaining."

I watch Snow walk off down the hall, as I'm powerless to stop from being pushed and pulled the other way.

* * *

005E.

_**Daria**_

Night has begun to fall, a cool wind has come through and I tuck my knees into my stomach. I had found a corner to sit in after my altercation with Brenton earlier. I had checked on the younger girls, before returning back to my place of quiet. However the time of when the Keepers would be sweeping the grounds was nearing and I didn't want to be caught somewhere unauthorized.

I was surprised earlier when I had seen the prep team leaving through the courtyard; most likely they had come from preparing Brenton for his introduction.

I find myself imagining how different he would look the next time I saw him, and the sham washes over me. I had been harsh and cruel to him, I afraid to face him again. I sigh pushing myself off of the stones, walking toward the courtyard which connected to the corridor where the female barracks were located.

I contemplated going another route, due to the fact I didn't want to have to cross where the girl's had been shot earlier. I walked quickly down the hall toward the courtyard, my boots hitting the dirt hard as I halfway jogged and walked across the grounds.

I nearly trip over my own feet when I see him, hunched over a shovel in his hand. The steel pounds into the ground, his breathing comes out sharp, as I stand there watching him. He senses my presence when he turns to face me. I almost have to gasp at how handsome he looks, even with streaks of dirt and sweat covering his face.

He now has a head of hair other than a shaved scalp, his bangs hang in his eyes and the dark strands set off his bright blue eyes. He's wearing only a dark colored undershirt without sleeves and the ripple of his muscles gleam from the sweat, his olive skin is brighter than before and I assume because of something the prep team placed on his skin.

I smooth my hair down, which I can only imagine the state it's in, as I move to my eyes rubbing them, wanting to hide any redness resting there. He's leaning against the shovel in his hand, looking at me. I look around him ignoring his expression of annoyance.

There are two places on the ground where dirt has been moved and repacked. I look back to him, the realization of his actions coming over me.

"You buried them?"

He shrugs, dark strands falling into his eyes more so," They died because of me; I thought they deserved more respect than to be thrown into one of the mass graves."

I hang my head down, my own dark hair falling around me like a curtain," I shouldn't have said it. You didn't kill them. I was upset, it's just everything I do here is to protect them, and I felt like I failed."

"But you were right about me believing everyone plays by certain rules. They don't."

"I never wanted to make you feel-"

"You were being honest. I don't ever want you to apologize for being real with me. I almost feel like I saw beyond your walls for once."

I look up, as he places the shovel down on the ground walking over to me. My breathe catches in my throat, as he stands a few feet in front of me.

"I don't ever want to be the reason for your pain."

His blue eyes burn into me, and I'm lost in him for a few seconds. I clear my throat stepping back, putting space between us.

"Aren't you afraid of the repercussions of digging the graves?"

He look behind him at the freshly dug graves shaking his head," No. Snow has what he wants now, he won't risk losing it."

"And what's that?"

He look back to me," He has leverage against, Peeta. What better revenge is there than to murder his enemies only living son on live television?"

I want to reach out to him, but I'm afraid of becoming close to him, because if I allow myself to, I may never want to let him go.

* * *

005F.

The cool breeze lifted the leaves up, causing them to blow around his ankles, dancing in spirals. He leaned against the trunk of the tree, pulling his dark coat across his chest. His body ached, as he rubbed his eyes willing the exhaustion to be push down. He moved his hand from his eyes down to the long scar trailing at his jaw bone.

A rustling of leaves alerted him, causing him to reach for the blade at his waist. These days there was a kill order out for him and most bounty retrievers for the Capitol shot first and asked questions afterward. He hadn't been out of the compound in sometime, but he knew this matter had to be handled first hand.

The ivory of the handle fit into his hand perfectly, the groove made for his bone structure. He pulled the blade free, as the sound came closer to him, closing his eyes he concentrated on the sounds around him. The footsteps came closer, as he waited for his time to attack.

Taking in a deep breath, his rounded the tree coming face to face with the owner of the heavy shoes. The older made held his hands up, as the blade laid against his throat.

"Peeta it's nice to see you haven't lost your edge."

"It's a needed asset when you have a price on your head. It's good to see you again, Haymitch. "

Haymitch lowered his hands, glancing to the blade," Do you think you could get the damn blade away from my throat, I was intending on using it to swallow and breath later."

Peeta rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth curling into a smirk, placing his blade back at his waist," Sorry."

"I am surprised it was you who came to meet me and not Finnick."

Peeta shook his head," No. I wanted to be the one. Besides this is important."

"I know, I saw the program. He does look a lot like you."

Peeta ran his hand over his face," They're going to need a mentor for him. Are you still on good terms with the Capitol board?"

"Define good terms?"

"Haymitch-"

"I got it kid, it's important."

"I need for him to be trained by someone I trust."

Haymitch nods," How's Katniss dealing with all of this?"

"How do you think? We spent all this time a part, she had to lie to her son to protect him, and the entire reason for it all was to keep him safe."

"I can go talk up a few of them tonight, at this after hours club they like to frequent. I can be at the East camp by morning."

"Thank you, Haymitch."

Haymitch reached for the younger man pulling him into a quick hug," Sure, kid."

Peeta stepped back, nodding his gratitude to his mentor, turning around to make the trek back up to where the base was located. Haymitch watched him go, worried about the man he saw before him. It seemed interesting to the older man, he would now be needed to train another generation of Mellark men.

* * *

**A/N: I hope you're all still sticking with it. I know it's incredibly long, but I promise it's worth the patience. Reviews are Love!**

-Stace


	6. Chapter 6

****Rated Adult for Language and Violence

**006A**

_**Brenton**_

The deep purple tapestries cover the walls of the hall, the lighting is minimal and I feel I've already had my far share of walking down this one hall. I can see the tall wooden doors before me, as we're halfway down the hallway. As per usual there's two Keepers escorting me, both equipped with rifles and side arms at their waists.

I had woken out of a deep sleep, when suddenly I was dragged from my mattress, and instructed to dress. I had assumed I was supposed to go to work detail in the laundry, but I was concerned when we walked past the pathway leading towards the crossing of the courtyard.

My nerves had further knotted when we had taken the turn toward where Snow's office was located.

I try to push any anxiety to the back of my mind, when we reach the doors, knowing I need to be clear minded when I see Snow. He's grown accustomed to playing mind games with me, and I want to be ready. I glance up towards the camera located up in the high corner of the wall, positive he's watching me right now.

The doors open, and I'm pushed forward by the butt of one of the rifles, my attention is pulled away from the camera. I step over the threshold and I'm assaulted by the sweet smell of flowers, I would assume I would be used to the odor by now, but I'm not, my stomach still turns at the stench.

The bleached head of hair peering out from the flowers whose petals match the color, catches my attention first. The light scraping sound of a vase being slid on wood is faint, as I see the conniving sneer of Elective Snow.

I square my shoulders as I'm pushed further into the room by the Keepers gun; I try to keep my face calm. However, all I want to do is reach across the large polished desk, and wrap my hands around his throat. Snow lowers his head, fixated on something he's holding in his hands.

I take the opportunity to scan the room for Thread; thankfully he's not in attendance, although I think he being absent makes me even more nervous. I move my attention back to Snow before he notices, but he's already studying me.

He clears his throat; as he places the thin slip of plastic down to fold his hands into each other. My recently grown bangs hang at the side of my face just below my ears, and I've forgotten how irritating it can be, I reach up pushing the strands behind my ears.

Snow pushes his chair back standing from it, to make his way to the front, facing me. The room is silent for a few seconds, the pounding in my ears from my own heartbeat threatens to deafen.

His dark navy suit sets off the silver of his hair, the sleeves are sleek and without a wrinkle. When he finally speaks I almost jump from the anticipation.

"I'm moving you up the hill to the competitor quarters. There you will train, and receive the care for medical as well as any other wants you may have."

"You're moving me to another part of the camp?"

"Not quite. The competitors are giving housing, which is furnished, and their meals are more than enough."

"Let me get this straight? I agree to kill or be killed for you, and you allow me to live in luxury?"

"You must be sharper than I thought. But yes, Mr. Mellark, even though you stated it so crude. You are rewarded with a few bestowals, for doing your part for the Capitol."

"Let me ask? Where does the extra food and everything else come from? I assume the other children who simply survive here are being asked to sacrifice for the competitors?"

"Yes, Mr. Mellark sometimes the weak are expected to supply for the stronger breeds."

"I think I'll pass, Elective Snow."

"Excuse me?"

I lean forward," I'm not going to make it easy for you. And I'm not going to take from anyone just to make you feel like less of a butcher. Because lets be real with one another? Everything before the arena is just preparation for death. And I will not let you use me, as your disposable game piece."

Snow meets me halfway, his back leaving the desk," But you already have when you agreed to compete."

I nod, my glare not wavering," True, but I unlike most of the people you control, I'm not for sale."

Snow throws his head back in laughter, as I stand up straight," It's amusing how strong you believe yourself to be. But you're not Mr. Mellark, you are weak. You gave into my wanting as soon as I harmed a couple of expendable females. No one of any real importance."

"It's not weak to value life."

"It is weak to allow the suffering of others to affect your own self preservation."

"Clearly you and I have different definitions of the word."

Snow slowly nods as he reaches for the thin plastic behind him," I would assume with who your mother is, you would have a better grasp of perseverance."

"What do you know of my mother?"

Snow keeps his head down," Your mother was a code here. She managed to escape, to be honest she's been the only one to successfully escape, although we had assumed she had died, this is until you came and we discovered she was the other half of your DNA stream."

"Good for her for being smarter than you."

"The point is Mr. Mellark you lack her strength. If you were as strong as you like to believe, you would recognize that I am only bestowing the opportunity for you to be fully prepared."

"I'll train, and I'll use your facilities but I'm more than comfortable in my cell."

Snow turns from me, his back slightly hunched over as he glided his fingers over the thin piece of plastic.

"Take him to the training center to meet his assigned mentor."

I keep my footing for as long as I can before I'm dragged out of the office; I call over my shoulder, defiance in my voice.

"Always, a pleasure sir."

I'm pushed forward, my knees buckling causing me to almost lose my balance. I hold my arms out to the side, regaining some sense of equilibrium. The blunt force of the barrel of a rifle pushes me, making me skip a few steps the threat of falling real. I can't help but smirk, proud of my defiance, but I have a sinking feeling I've only dug my own grave.

* * *

006B.

_**Brenton**_

The deep red carpet spans the entire floor, and I'm forced to think it's somehow symbolic. Dark curtains cover the windows which span nearly up to the thirty foot ceiling. The entire room is massive, and considering this is only the training area, I'm assuming the sleeping quarters are even more massive.

I've been pacing the floor, for about an hour since the two Keepers literally threw me through the door. My hands are stuffed in my pockets, the stiff fabric of the camp uniform scratches my skin and I miss the smooth fabric of the outfit the prep team dressed me for my introduction.

My dark bangs continue to fall in front of my eyes and I have to blow them to the sides. The anticipation is not helping my anxieties and I try to push any self doubt away. However, Snow's words haven't left me, and I'm left thinking if he was right about me.

_Am I too weak to do what's needed? Do I fold too easily when I see someone suffering? I had been taught, to value life, to see the respect it deserved, but should some lives be expendable? I'm unable to understand where the line should be drawn, and is my inability to do so, my biggest down fall? _

I'm broke out of my reverie when the creaking of the heavy steel door, signals a visitor. I stop in my tracks turning to where the echoing sound stems from. The muscles in my back tense when I see the tall golden eyed boy from my first day at the camp walk through the door.

I ball my fists inside my pockets, planting my feet firmly to the ground. His shoulders are as broad as mine, and I'm not ignorant enough to think he won't be a challenge. Thankfully, he's alone so I'm hopeful I may have a better chance of surviving without another concussion.

He advances on me, and I'm about to throw the first punch when he stops short, standing a few feet in front of me.

"I see you made it out of the camp?"

"Funny, I thought we were still in the camp?"

"Technically yes, but here we're free to go where we like. We don't have to worry about food rations, and if Snow thinks you're enough of an asset you're welcomed to pick through available lot of courtesan's, but only a few competitors are allowed to do so?"

"Courtesans? You mean prostitutes?"

"Yes."

"So you rape unsuspecting woman, because Snow allows you to?"

Serkan steps closer to me, and I dig my nails into my palms," I heard what you did to Cray, you have a weakness for woman," my breathing is becoming shallow and I can feel my anger boiling," The only reason you aren't dead is because Snow needs you."

"And the only reason you're not dead is because you're a good little dog."

Serkan squares his shoulder, the muscles in his arms tensing as he forma a fist. I keep eye contact with him, assuming he'll give his attentions away, and maybe I'll be able to get the advantage. My heart begins to beat rapidly, the pulse thumps inside my ears.

However, all of a sudden a loud pounding on the open door, makes both Serkan and I jump. He turns around quickly and I lean to the side, trying to see who or what has startled me. A tall unkempt man with blonde hair leans against the door frame, his arm is casually laying against the door as his elbow cradles the side of his head.

He has a full grown beard, which is hidden halfway by the hair falling around his face. His voice is gruff, with his speech faintly slurred; I would assume he was either drunk or severely hung over.

"Hey shit head! You know the rules, competitors aren't supposed to be in each other's training areas, especially if the comp is a newbie, like the kid here."

Serkan turns back to me, glaring, as he heads over to the man by the door. His shoulders are squared and he looks to be on the attack, he's feet from the man and it's then I see the flicker of light.

A thin blade is pulled from his dark colored pants; he appears to have a tight grip. Serkan is inches from the man, as I open my mouth to warn him, the bearded man braces his right fist with his left hand, his arm bent as he connects his elbow to the base of Serkan's throat.

The blade flies up in the air, as the man catches it. Serkan's hands are still at his throat as the man presses the blade into the lower half of his stomach, applying pressure.

"You aren't supposed to attack mentors."

Serkan coughs, testing his voice; it comes out winded and faint," You're not a mentor anymore."

The man smirks, but I can see some darkness in his eyes," I am now, sunshine," Serkan back tenses and I can only assume the look of surprise on his face, including mine," Run along, Brutus has been looking for you," the man withdraws the blade still holding onto it tightly," And if you ever come after my fighter again, before an arena challenge, I will permanently lodge this in your ear."

Serkan turns back to me, his face flushed," Good luck with the drunk."

I try to manage a smile, my voice dripping with anger," Take care of that throat."

Serkan glares, as he sulks out of the room, the man slams the door shut when Serkan is fully in the hallway. His arm hangs in the air for a few seconds before he drops it, turning to face me.

I'm frozen in my place, not decided on how to act around him just yet. His tangled mop of blonde hair lies flat against his face as he walks up to me. I'm ready to react when he all of a sudden starts to circle me, as if he's studying me.

He stops moving when he ends up in front of me, his long and most likely unwashed fingers start poking at my chest, and I move backwards a bit, my body not resisting. I smell the faint aroma of distilled alcohol on his breathe, it even seems to be emanating from his pores. He begins to shake his head, while he looks me in the face.

"You're toned and you do have muscle but you're scrawnier than your father was at your age."

This makes me perk up as my eyes become wide," You knew him?"

The man is surprised by my voice and I would assume he had forgotten I was even in the room.

"Uhh…well everyone knew of Peeta Mellark when he was about your age. His picture was posted everywhere, after his capture became Elective Snow's number one priority. Besides you don't forget the face of the man who tussled with Thread and lived to tell about it."

"Yh, so I hear."

"I hear you also had a run in with him, and you live to tell about it," the man rubs his beard, giving me a toothy smile, stained yellow teeth easy to see," You might be more like your father than you think."

I square my back, stretching my spine to its full height," I doubt it."

"You got daddy issues," he closes his mouth nodding satisfied," Good. They can come in handy with drawing upon the rage you'll need for the arena. Just don't let it cloud your judgment."

I let out a small laugh," I would think the drunk in the room, wouldn't have any business talking to me about judgment."

"Really?"

"Yes. And to be honest if Snow was going to assign a drunk as my mentor, he should have given me the option of declining your services, I'd be better off training myself."

The man laughs aloud, as he hunches over. I'm not sure if he's overcome with laughter or if he has to vomit. I let my guard down for a second, as he springs up quickly with a blade in his hand. The toe of his boot connects with the back of my knee, forcing my body to pivot to the side.

His knife hand comes to my face; I recover from the shock, blocking the knife with my forearm. The tip of the blade is inches from my left eye, I push his arm back, but I leave myself open as his boot connects with my stomach forcing me to double over.

He advances on me, and I quickly recover, although I'm still gasping for breath. The knife is coming for my face once again, and I step to the side, hoping to strike the inside of his forearm to disarm him, but he's quicker than I am, as I feel the blade of the knife, cut the side of my cheek.

His free fist strikes me in the face, sending me to the floor. The carpet has changed into a deep grey mat, my body falls into it hard, and the air in my lungs escaping, as I gasp my body wracks with spasms. I lay on my back for a few seconds before I sit up bracing myself with my elbows. I reach up to my cheek, pulling my hand back recovering a small bit of blood.

"And that was me still half way loaded. Imagine what I could have done, if I was sober."

He's standing above me, his blonde hair falling around his face. I'm waiting for another attack when he tosses the blade to the floor, the steel clinking on the ground.

"Never let your guard down! Never underestimate your opponent, because you're too much of a cocky shit!"

I remain on the floor watching him as he turns to walk out, he calls over his shoulder," Be here tomorrow at dawn, clearly we have a lot of work to do. And make sure to get a change of clothing, be dressed in the competitor uniform. Spirits know those camp threads chaff like a bitch."

I sit up, calling after him as I hold my cheek," Can I know who'll be training me for my death march?"

The man pauses at the door, turning to me," Haymitch Abernathy."

He knocks at the material of the door, before he turns to walk out to the hall. I watch the door, making sure he isn't coming back before I fall back onto the ground. The bleeding on my cheek has already stopped, and I lie there for a while before I stand up searching for someone who can give me some answers about my new mentor.

* * *

006C.

The hall is cold and the steel of the metal completing the wall reflects the bright yellow light, all around her. The ventilation ducks above her head hum and rattle on, ever so often a loud thumping sound echoes through the hall.

She had been roaming the facility, trying to become familiar with her surroundings, hoping she would find a familiar face. She knew of few people under Peeta's direction, but she did remember Rue, and how kind she had been the few times they had come in contact. The grounds were much vaster than they appeared from the outside, and there seemed to be an underground corridor she didn't have the ranking to have access to.

She noticed how the make shift warehouse looked more like a district than it did the command hob of the resistance. There were housing quarters where families would reside, she even saw some young children playing in the halls, when she had walked through. Out of habit she had glanced at their arms for a familiar marking, one she had lived with most of her life, but she exhaled a breath when she noticed their skin had been unaffected.

Most though were codes, and she assumed this was where they had laid their roots after being released or escaping the camps. She noticed the whispers behind cupped hands and the looks she earned, but she assumed it had to do with her lineage, seeing most codes and those in the districts against the regime of the Capitol, still talked about her father.

Most felt they knew him, something Katniss learned not to bother her, they needed to feel close to someone who was brave enough to try to fight back. Although some knew of her connection to Peeta, and the news of Brenton's capture had turned into interesting gossip.

It seemed from what she could decipher from the hushed conversations, Peeta was private about his life before the resistance, and more than likely he never left his quarters, unless it was pertinent to the movement, and then he would depart to the locked corridors below.

He seemed withdrawn to her, which was not the man she remembered. But she assumed the last decade had done its damage to him as much as it had to her, if not worse because at least she had their son to help her keep her faith.

She was stunned by where she was now; she had unexpectantly walked back towards Peeta's quarters. After their argument, he had held her for awhile as she cried, it had felt so familiar having him hold her, her body fit perfectly into his, and she found herself feeling safe and content.

She had clung to his shirt, the material balled up in her fist; he had pulled away from her, his hands leaving her body. Katniss could feel the warmth leaving her, and she was confused if it had to do with the absence of Peeta's body or how he seemed more distant than he had before.

The air was heavy again, Katniss had tried to reach out to him, but he had rebuffed her contact, turning from her. He had sat down at the table he had against the wall, and mumbled about work he had to get done, before the night was over.

She had nodded compliantly, recognizing his need to grieve alone. Katniss now stood outside his door; she raised her hand to knock when she noticed the door was slightly a jarred. She looked to each side down the hall, looking for someone else, she was uneasy to enter his room alone.

Katniss stood there for a few minutes before turning to walk back down the hall. She was a couple of feet from the door, when she heard a loud crashing sound coming from his quarters.

Katniss didn't hesitate before she began to run up to the door pushing it open, as she crashed into the room. The solid metal door slammed against the metal sheeting echoing through the room. Katniss stopped suddenly in her tracks when she saw Peeta hunched over kneeling on the ground bare footed, a half empty bottle of brown liquid cradled in his hands. His head is down casted, as he brings the rim of the bottle to his lips.

His back is up against the bed frame, his body surrounded by thin pieces of paper, she assumes are pictures. Peeta brings his head back, the bottle in his hand following as he downs the last of the liquid, his cheeks are swelled, but lessening in volume as the alcohol slides down his throat.

He exhales coughing loudly as he shakes the bottle, peering through the glass with narrow eyes. He shakes the bottle once more before, throwing it up against the wall.

The glass shatters easily, pieces of once heated sand, fly into the space around the wall, hitting the hard ground, breaking once more. Katniss jumped slightly from the collision, while Peeta seemed unaffected by it. Without looking he snaked his hand behind him pulling out another bottle from under the bed, the clattering of the full bottles hitting each other sounded through the room.

Peeta withdrew the full bottle from behind him, moving it in front of him as he tried to unscrew the top with his other hand. His hands shook, as he mumbled something incoherent and moved the bottle to his mouth, attempting to pry the top open with his teeth.

Katniss sighed closing the gap between their bodies; her footsteps caused him to look up the top of the bottle still between his back molars. Peeta looked at her through slanted lids, perspiration covered his face. His blonde hair was soaked, as was the front of his black t-shirt. Katniss crouched down inches from Peeta, balancing herself on the balls of her feet, reaching for the bottle between his lips.

Peeta lazily pushed her hand away, almost missing her arm completely. Katniss shook her head, her dark hair falling around her shoulders.

"Are you drunk?"

Peeta let out a little giggle removing the bottle from his mouth," Well, we all deal with these things in our own ways. You cry and I drink," Peeta began to laugh out loud his body shaking, "A LOT!"

Katniss reaches for his forearm," Come on, you need to get -," Katniss stops short as her eyes fall on the photos Peeta had lied out she recognizes the dark hair of the small child pictured," What are these?"

"I believe we call them photographs."

Peeta laughs again as he unscrews the top of the bottle, throwing the cap to the side. Katniss moves the pictures to the sides to reveal more underneath. A myriad of memories hit her as she stares at herself at a much younger age holding her son, however many are of Brenton before he was eleven.

She stops on one of her, when her hair was still long and she had been wearing a loose fitting white sundress, held on by thin straps. It had been taken when she and Brenton were living outside of district four, the light reflecting off from the ocean, made her dark hair shine.

"There's so many. When did you take these?"

Peeta brought the bottle to his lips, leaning his head back to take a swig," Over the years."

Katniss nodded, picking up the photograph of Brenton playing beside the shore line when he was about six;" You were keeping tabs on us."

Peeta withdrew the bottle from his lips, wiping his mouth with his arm," For awhile."

Katniss couldn't take her eyes off of the hundreds of photographs," This wasn't fair. You could see us, but we couldn't see you."

Peeta eyes became serious," It was necessary."

Katniss' head shot up," It was halfway!"

"I couldn't let you know I was there! Families are a liability in the lives we lead. Look at what happened to both our parents, our siblings! Our love ones are a weakness."

"No, we're not. You chose to believe we were, Peeta. But that's how it's always been…on your terms."

Peeta takes another drink," You're right. And look where we are now. Our son is being made into what I never wanted for him…me. Snow's forcing him to be a killer. It's as though it's been clandestine."

Katniss blinks back her tears as she pushing the photos to the side, moving closer to Peeta," This floor is freezing. You're going to catch a cold with how soaked you already are."

Peeta fights her off, his arm flying out from in between their bodies, the alcohol sloshing in the bottle to spill out over his body, as the bottle is flinged against the wall, shattering it, the liquid exploding onto the floor. Peeta growls pushing Katniss onto her butt, as he franticly picked up the photographs before the liquid could rush further over the wall covering them, and ultimately damaging them.

His breathing is labored as he collects the pictures in his arms with shaky hands. Katniss watches him drop the pictures onto the mattress. Peeta lands on his knees, settling his forehead against the wool blanket, his shoulders are hunched over. Katniss stands up, reaching for a towel balled up against the wall, she quickly soaks up the alcohol before it can spread further.

She's careful not to step on the glass, as Peeta jumps up pushing her back to throw the soaked towel against the wall. He hisses as his palm catches against a large piece of glass. Droplets of blood hit the floor, and he grabs his hand bringing it to his chest. Katniss tries to reach for it, but he elbows her back behind him.

"I don't need a nurse maid!"

She pushes him to the side reaching for his injured hand," Apparently you do."

Peeta pulls from her, using his other hand to rip a piece of the hem from his shirt. The material rips easily, as threads lay flat. Peeta wraps his bleeding hand with the already soaked fabric, as he groans from the alcohol entering the deep cut. Katniss pulls his hand from his body forcefully, to hold it closer to her, unfolding his fist.

"You can't leave it like this. There's sweat and alcohol on this fabric, ensuring you'll get an infection."

Peeta narrowed his eyes," What do you suggest?"

Katniss ignored his tone, pulling at his clothing," Take these off, you need to change."

Peeta reached for the hem of his torn shirt as he pulled it over his head with one hand, not wanting to jostle the fabric free from his palm. He watched her walk over to where he kept fresh clothes, as she riffled through the drawers, pulling out clean pants and a plain white undershirt.

Peeta threw the shirt to the ground, as she walked back to him stopping in front of him. She tried not to stare at his bare chest but her attention was brought to a deep scar running across his chest. Katniss reached out tracing the risen skin with her pointer finger.

Peeta shivered underneath her touch, his clouded head under his drunkenness becoming clear. She looked up to him, her dark eyes curious.

"When did this happen?"

"A few years back. Caught some shrapnel in the chest," his voice became low almost inaudible," I was one of the few to make it out, the others including Rue weren't so lucky."

Katniss withdrew her hand, lowering her eyes, as Peeta kept studying her face. Katniss reaches for the undershirt, as Peeta pulls her body to his; he lowers his face to hers, their lips inches apart before Katniss pulls from his grasp, backing up enough to slap him full across the cheek.

Peeta's well hand goes to his cheek, as Katniss fumes with rage, her chest heaving. Peeta smirks slightly, tilting his head to the side, while he still holds his face.

"I'm assuming you're not in the mood?"

"No! Not all of us are so drunk off of our asses, we do things we shouldn't. Besides if we did anything, I can bet you wouldn't remember."

Peeta lets out a deep laugh, which makes Katniss even angrier," Sweetheart, I've never been that drunk."

Katniss reaches for the clothes throwing them against his chest, as they bounce off landing on the floor," Get dress, so we can stitch up your hand before you bleed everywhere."

"So, afterwards perhaps we can finish what I tried to start?"

Katniss narrowed her eyes at him;" You are such an ass."

* * *

006D.

_**Brenton**_

The navy of the curtains block out any sunlight coming through the barred windows, as the oaky smell of cedar spreads through the room. Deep green carpet is laid out through the office, and I have to admit I'm more than comfortable here than I've ever been when I'm in Snow's office.

The room is dark except for the strategically placed lamps in each corner. I lean back into the front of the large wooden desk, my arms crossed over my chest. My right leg shakes from the anxiety, and I can't help but worry if he was able to get free from the Keepers watch to meet me here.

I reach up running my fingers through my hair; the locks are slick due to the grease build up, reminding me of how much I need to shower. I suppose I could use the large bathroom inside my appointed training area. After Haymitch had left me lying on the floor nursing my pride, a young female code came in carrying an assigned uniform for me.

The set was dark in color; I assumed it was the same uniform I had seen Serkan and the other competitors wear. The young girl glanced at me giving me a faint smile, her blonde hair falling around her face, her shoulder were hunched over a clear sign her spirit had been broken like everyone else who is imprisoned here.

I had tried to talk to her, be cordial, but when I stood up she hurried out of the room, leaving the door open. I had brushed the worry I felt off, and had sought out the laundry room, looking for someone in particular.

He was easy to spot over all of the smaller codes under his direction. His light blonde hair stuck up from the sweat drenching his head, perspiration soaking the back of his uniform. He was bent down picking up a load of sheets, shaking his head.

One of the younger codes had tripped and fell, the clean sheets falling to the floor. The smaller boy had his head bowed, clearly ashamed of his actions.

"107, next time you trip and fall make sure you fall on your face instead of dropping the clean laundry."

"Yes,193. I know you now have to report me to the Keeper supervisor, so I can be punished accordingly."

Carr sighed," Kid, no one's going to punish you. Just go back to work," the little boy looked up his eyes wide with surprise," but I may give you a light kick in the ass next time you drop clean sheets on this nasty ass floor."

"Thank you, 193."

Carr began to smile before clearing his throat, his normal gruff coming back," Go the hell back to work!"

The young code smiled, turning his back to Carr to join another group of codes separating a massive pile of laundry. Carr shook his head raising his hand up to his mouth to cover his smile. I began to walk closer to him, as a group of hushed tones flooded around me.

This alerted Carr, as he turned to where I was his brow furrowing. He squared his shoulders folding his arms over his chest. The light blonde hairs on his arms were tangled with sweat and dirt, and I noticed how complex Carr really was. Gruff and sarcastic on the outside but he could be kind and wise.

Carr shook his head," Well what would a great competitor such as Brenton Mellark be doing down in the muck with us low lives?"

I shake my head, having to grin slightly," It's Everdeen remember?"

Carr laughs pointing a finger my way," Oh, right! You have daddy issues."

I try not to roll my eyes, as I run my fingers through my dark hair. The heat of the room has started to affect me, and I can feel the itchy material of the code uniform forming to my skin.

"I need some help."

Carr looks more confused than ever," From me?"

I nod trying to ignore the pride washing over him," Yes."

Carr laughs laying his hands over his chest flat," I'm just filled with all kinds of happiness."

"Just meet me in Master Heavensbee's office in two hours."

I turn to walk out, having to navigate myself though a mob of codes and laundry. I have my back to Carr, when I can hear him shout out at me.

"Exactly, what type of help are we talking about?"

I had walked back to the training area, hoping to find Master Heavensbee roaming around the corridors. I had searched for about thirty minutes when I had spotted him standing outside the competitor's quarters. His suit was a dark purple, the lines clean and straight, much like his slicked back dark hair.

I quickened my footsteps proceeding near him, when he glanced my way, a small smile curling his thin lips. He turned his hands in his pockets; his posture was more casual than I had remembered. He opened his mouth to speak before I was to do so.

"Ah, dear boy. I've been looking for you."

I stop short a few feet from him," Me sir?"

He brings his hand out of his pocket waving in the air," Oh yes! I assumed you would have already moved into your quarters."

"I declined the offer, sir. On principal."

Plutarch nodded," Yes, I should have guessed you would. You are a strong young man, with quite a moral understanding."

My brow furrows," That is interesting sir, seeing most individuals of ranking here, see many of my actions as those of a weak mind."

Plutarch lowers his voice, as I step closer," Don't let others dictate the person you know yourself to be."

I nod," Yes, sir."

Plutarch clasps his hands together," Now, let's get to the matter at hand."

"Sir?"

"I have a few tapes and files I'm waiting for you to look over."

I can't help let out a small laugh, "Actually the reason I was looking for you was to request a few tapes on Vanquisher Abernathy."

Plutarch straightened his suit jacket," Than we both must think the same way, because my office is free for the rest of the afternoon for you to few the tapes and file."

My mouth was agape and I had assumed requesting the tapes and privacy in his office was going to be almost impossible," Sir, I can't deny to you how shocked I am you've already arranged such a thing."

Plutarch leaned in again," My boy, do not be surprised by how others are more than they appear to be."

I was even more confused than before, as he turned on his heel, lightly whistling to himself, making his way down the red carpeted corridor. I had hurried to where I had known Plutarch's office to be. The door was open slightly, not having to be opened by the electronic pad next to the door frame.

I opened the door slowly, ready for any surprise when I stepped through. I had spotted the stack of thin discs setting on the desk, an old manila folder lying underneath. I decided to wait on Carr's arrival hoping he had agreed to come.

So for the last hour I've been leaning against the desk in Master Heavensbee's office trying to resist the urge to start without him. I lay my hands over my face rubbing quickly, as I hear light knocking on the door. I stand up as Carr pokes his head through the opening.

"I feel very creped out being in here, without Heavensbee knowing."

"Relax he said it was ok."

"Says you! Listen I'm more fragile then you. I don't think surviving a whipping is likely for me."

I shake my head," It's ok."

Carr walks into the room completely," Alright, but if we get caught I'm selling you out."

"Thank you, Carr. Your loyalty to me is overwhelming."

Carr shrugs," Anything to help."

I walk to the back of the desk picking up the discs and the file. Carr looks around half expecting to be caught, not yet convinced a group of Keepers won't burst through the doors. I reach to the side of the desk punching in the codes to reveal the screening area.

A thin black screen lowers from the ceiling quietly, causing Carr to jump a little from surprise. I try not to laugh but fail as Carr glares at me walking to the front of the desk. I round the side of the desk joining him, handing him the discs.

"I asked you here to help give me some context. These are the recordings of Vanquisher Haymitch Abernathy's games. He's my mentor."

Carr mouth opened wide," No shit?"

"I faintly remembered his name, which led me to try to ask Heavensbee for some information on him. But I get the sense you know what's going on more than most."

Carr nods," Abernathy is different than most Vanquishers. He's not a career for starters."

I hold my hand up to stop him," Ok, what's career exactly?"

Carr leans into the desk further, settling in," Originally, the careers were codes you were picked up from the more Capitol friendly districts like 1 and 2, who had already had combat training. But now days it's different."

I stand up facing him," How so?"

"Former competitors who were favored by Snow, elected to have children who they gave over to the games after they were born. They would live in the hoarding houses comfortably, until they came of age to be sent to the competitors housing to begin training."

"You're telling me, codes conceived children for the only reason to be favored by the Capitol."

"More than favored, any competitor contributing a child receives enough wages to never want for anything."

"So they sell their children."

"You got it."

I run my hand over my face," Serkan's one of them isn't he? A child conceived for the games?"

"Yes. And he only has three more battles to go through before he earns his freedom and coin. If he succeeds he'll be a Vanquisher."

"How do you become a Vanquisher?"

"You have to make it through eleven battles."

"Which means-"

Carr nods," You have to kill through them."

My face falls and I try to keep myself calm, the dire circumstances hitting me," And Haymitch is different why?"

Carr puts his hands together," Most district codes are just cannon fodder for the games, if one lasts more than thirty minutes its' a miracle. The codes aren't even trained."

"But Abernathy was?"

"Yes, because he caught the eye of Snow and other council members."

"How?"

"He seriously injured a couple of careers and killed a Keeper in the process. No one really knows what exactly happened, but I think Snow was impressed by him. So he got on the radar. He made it through his eleven battles, one of the only district codes to win and he left. He just disappeared, but showed up about ten years ago, when he tried to mentor a few codes but none of them made it through the first excursion, and he disappeared again."

"You said something about council members?"

"Yh. You don't know about the council?"

I shake my head," No."

"You should. Your grandfather on your father's side was one."

"There's a lot I don't know."

"Well, for what it's worth you scored when you got Abernathy. He is a drunk but a good man."

"You talk like you know him."

"We all had lives before we came here, Brenton."

I smile," You called me Brenton."

Carr leans his head back rolling his eyes," Oh, Spirits! Don't get all sappy on me, you're not my type."

I laugh as Carr hands me the discs, I take them as he walks towards the exit. I look down at the tapes in my hand, sighing.

"Thanks, Carr."

He waves behind him," Yh, yh. This doesn't mean we're friends."

I can hear the humor in his voice and I laugh at his retreating back. Carr pauses at the door, holding onto the frame. I look up, when his footsteps stop.

"If you need anything else you know where I'll be."

"Sweating your ass off while you terrorize small children?"

"Yes."

I shake my head, as he closes the door behind him. I set the discs onto the desk picking the first one up slipping it into a slit underneath the screen. I lean back against the desk, as I open up the file. For the most part everything Carr had told me about Abernathy is inside the file.

A few notes scrolled in black ink are on the sides, and I can only assume its Snow's penmanship. It's almost unreadable, but the words competitor is scrolled though, as is the incident which made Snow aware of Haymitch.

Apparently he had come to the camp with a younger sibling who had been beaten by a group of careers while a Keeper stood by. The boy had died in his bed in the male codes barracks, and Haymitch had taken his revenge.

He had been thrown into a cell alone for about twenty days with only a little to eat each day, but without human contact. The notations say by the time the training mentors had gotten a hold of him he was full of rage and blood lust, almost inconsolable.

I picked up a picture which is pinned to the file. His hair is darker and his grey eyes remind me a bit of my mothers. I'm surprised by the static at first when the footage starts, but I can't stop from my mouth dropping open when I witness the brutality of Abernathy's actions.

He's swift and unrelenting, but even in the black and white footage I can see the blood lust in his eyes, and I'm afraid I'm venturing down the safe path.

* * *

006E.

The air in the room has become warm, as it threatens to choke her. Katniss tries to ignore the assaulting smell of alcohol as she weaves the thread through his hand. Peeta occasionally tries to pull free of her grasp but he stills his movement as soon as she glances up from her actions to narrow her eyes at him.

The odor of alcohol has started to seep from his pores; a thin sheen of sweat covers his face as he holds his forehead with his free hand. Katniss can hear him groan occasionally, and she has to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

Katniss weaves the last piece of thread through his hand, she secures the knot, before lying the needle and thread on the side of the table. Peeta rocks to each side, making the wood creak underneath him. Katniss opens the container of salve, placing her pointer finger in, moving up to the lip of the container, pulling free with bright yellow medication.

She touches his palm gently applying the salve on to prevent infection. Katniss reaches for the clean bandaging she had found in the bathroom connected to his quarters, wrapping it securely around his hand. She tore the ends to ensure a knot could be tied to make sure the bandage stayed on tight.

Katniss runs her hand over the bandage, moving Peeta hand in her own studying her work. Katniss nods to herself pleased with her work, as she reaches for the needle, pressing the tip into the flesh above his bandage where the skin isn't covered. Peeta yelps, and then flinches from the pain of his surprise which results in a deep moan.

"What the hell?"

Katniss smiled," That was for hitting on me, and trying to take advantage of me."

Peeta hold his head, peering at her from underneath his hand," Katniss you and I both know no one ever takes advantage of you unless you're willing. And can you blame me, for wanting a kiss?"

Katniss folded her arms," Peeta, I doubt all you wanted was a kiss."

"I was only hoping for a kiss, but I would have been open for more."

Katniss shook her head, turning to leave," You just don't know when to stop."

Peeta lowered his hand watching her walk to the door, he opened his mouth to talk but the alcohol has caused it to become dry. He pressed the top of his mouth to his tongue trying to produce any moisture.

He coughed, his voice was horse and tight," Do you remember when you found me running up down the hill in the rain?"

Katniss stopped in her tracks turning around to face him, she was furious by his recent behavior and she was preparing to see a sarcastic smirk on his face. She was more than ready to lash out at him, but she stopped short when she saw the look in his eyes.

He had lowered his hands, setting them in his lap; his shoulders were slightly hunched over, making him look smaller than he actually was. Her chest tightened as his blue eyes met her dark ones; the broken glint in his eyes almost caused her to cry.

He looked the way he did when she had found him running in the rain trying to get back something he had lost.

"Yes, I remember."

Peeta drew in a breath and Katniss could see his eyes just so slightly watering up," I feel like I've been running up and down a hill, waiting for you to find me."

"Peeta-"

"I don't know what I'm doing anymore Katniss. How did I become this person? How did we end up where we are?"

"I wish I could say something to make it all make sense, but I can't."

Peeta nods," Do you ever imagine what it would have been like if I had never left to find Haymitch?"

Katniss nods, as she presses her nails into her balled fists trying to fight the urge to cry," I do."

Peeta takes in a shuddering breathe," And?"

"It would have been wonderful…at first. But then you would have become angry or even bitter. Peeta what you do is important, it's a part of who you are, and I've always been proud of you. You give those a voice and chance that wouldn't have it otherwise. And I think it's not in your nature to back down, or to hide out. Your strong and kind, I just think you lost your way a little."

Katniss wiped the tears from her face as they started to fall down her cheeks. Peeta watched her fidget, upset to be so vulnerable in front of him. It had been such a long time since they had even been in the room alone with each other, it felt as though they were meeting each other for the first time.

"See you did come to the end of the hill."

Katniss let out a small laugh," You're still drunk."

Peeta tried to laugh, his head pounding as he held up to fingers pursing them almost together but not touching," Just a little."

"So, it's safe to assume you won't recollect most of this conversation?"

"I'll be lucky if I can remember most of the week."

Katniss shook her head laughing as Peeta rubbed his temple. Peeta watched her as she looked around the room, averting her eyes from his stare.

Peeta let out a loud cough," I should get in the shower and bathe, since I'm covered in sweat and smell like a distillery."

"Good plan."

"There's someone I work with, a friend, who should be back soon from a supply run. I'm planning on filling him in on the Brenton situation. Would you like to be there when I speak to him?"

Katniss could feel how awkward the space between them was becoming," No, it's fine, but maybe find me afterwards?"

"Yes, of course."

Katniss turned to leave, as Peeta lowered his head. Katniss turned back around quickly, alerting Peeta to look back up.

"I was wondering if there was somewhere I could rest, and maybe a change of clothes?"

Peeta nodded," Yes. There are some quarters next door, you could stay in. And I'm sure there's someone about your size around here."

Katniss nodded walking to the door as she pointed to her right,"This way?"

Peeta nodded," Yes, next door on the right."

Katniss gave him once last look before she walked through the door closing it behind her. The metal closing echoed through the room, as Peeta held his head in his hands. His hand ached from the laceration and the stitches.

He was tempted to reach underneath his bed and down another bottle the alcohol Johanna had found on one of her supply runs. However he decided against it, aware Finnick would be back soon, and he wanted to be at least half way sober when filling him in to the situation.

Peeta shook his head trying to clear it as he pushed himself off the desk careful not to further injure his hand. He met the ground with shaky legs as he steadied himself using the edge of the desk. Peeta stood holding the desk as he used it for support.

He breathed in deeply, the raw stench of his body odor and the alcohol almost made him gag, but he could faintly smell her under the harsh aromas. He closed his eyes remembering her scent, so faintly sweet, like wildflowers which grew by the lake on the land where her family's cabin was.

Having her near again was breaking him, and he cursed himself for allowing her to see him to shallow and worthless. All he wanted to do was press his face into her hair and breathe her in. She was his lifeline, and he wanted nothing more than to be saved.

Peeta ran his hands over his face, the bandage almost catching at his nose. He knew he was fooling himself if he had any hope he and Katniss would ever find themselves back to each other. He would help her get their son back and he would have to let them go. He had to learn to be selfless for his family, even if being without them was tearing him a part.

* * *

006F.

_**Brenton**_

The training center is empty and I can hear my pulse race in my ears. I had watched the entire series of recordings of Haymitch's games, which has only heightened my anxiety. I lean against the far wall from the door, wanting to be prepared for his arrival.

My head is pounding from the lack of sleep, and I reach up to rub my temples. My left hand rests on my forehead as my right scratches an itch on my stomach, my skin not yet used to material which isn't irritating in every aspect. The soft material of the training uniform shirt, bunches underneath my fingers, and I'm thankful to also have boots which aren't two sizes too large for my feet.

Three identical buckles wrap around the upper part of the boot covering my ankle, my black pants matching my shirt, securely tucked in. On my way back from Plutarch's office I had ran into my prep team. I have to admit, the urge to run the other way was overwhelming.

Venia was the first to advance towards me, her arms outstretched; I was on the defensive until I realized she was preparing to hug me. I stood there not moving, her toned arms washed in pea green wrapped around me, my arms pinned to my sides. I had no assumptions of how to react in the situation, so I merely just stood as still as I knew how.

Venia squeezed tight and released her pressure, her arms starting to leave my personal space but not before giving me a light slap on my behind. I yelped loudly from the contact which earned a giggle from her as well as the others standing behind her, their hands covering their smiles.

I politely nodded to Flavius and Octavia, as well as thanking Venia for her _support. _She giggled once more, murmuring about my eloquent way with words.

I shrugged my shoulders as the prep team, circled me like before, Flavius and Octavia taking me by each arm, pulling me into the training area, cutting across the practice floor to the large washroom. I was taken aback by how large it was with white washed walls, and bright red flowy curtains.

A large tub was set up against the far wall; I had enough time to spot it before my clothes were once again torn from my body. I tried to ignore the roaming hands, not wanting to know if they belonged to either a woman or a man. It took about an hour before I was bathed and clothed; Flavius would consistently click his tongue at his disproval of my bathing habits, or lack thereof.

After I was ready to train, the prep team bid me farewell, Flavius and Octavia nodded to me curtly, as Venia hugged me again, her left hand stilled on my behind for longer than I would have liked. I could hear Octavia snapping at her, the tone tight and annoyed.

Venia just pulled back from me lightly slapping my face, shaking her head about how handsome I was, and if only I was from the Capitol. I couldn't help but chuckle at her behavior, knowing it came from a place of affection and not malice.

The air in the training area became quiet and almost unbearable after the prep team left, leaving me with my own thoughts and doubts in my ability to become the person I needed to be to survive the arena. I feel as though I'm living in the shadow of Peeta Mellark, perceived as the legacy of his great accomplishments in the resistance, but all I feel is empty.

I'm not brave or even strong, I continue to worry about my mother and what has become of her. I have a version of myself I show to the world, one where I'm not a frightened six teen year old boy, and I'm scared the violence and eminent death of the arena will be enough to shatter my false bravado.

I'm lost, permanently drowning and I desperately need a life line. The metal door creaks open and I'm brought out of my train of thought by the sound. I straighten my back, my hands balling at my sides. My bangs hang at my cheekbones, the strands falling naturally after being washed.

I'm taken aback when Haymitch walks in, looking almost normal. His hair is now combed and pulled back into a piece of elastic, and his clothes are plain and black, matching my own uniform. He however, still has his full beard, but it appears to have been trimmed and up kept. I fold my arms hoping to hide my anxieties, as he walks towards me.

I clear my throat, trying to rid it of the knot forming there," I see you cleaned up."

Haymitch nods towards me, as he walks to where I am," Same to you, kid," Haymitch rubs at his jaw," I'm ok with a good scrub down, but some of those prep teams have grabby hands, and I'm far too old and drunk for any fooling around right now. Plus, I'm not into the Capitol broads there's no telling where an extra appendage may pop up. Only district woman for me, where they can drink you under the table and kick your ass for being too fresh."

I have to laugh a little," Reminds me of my mother."

Haymitch nods, clearing his throat," So are you ready to prepare?"

I keep my arms folded closing the gap between us," You mean, am I ready to die?"

"That's why we're here kid to make sure, you don't."

I reach up moving my bangs behind my ears," I watched the recordings of your games," This catches Haymitch's attention, his posture straightening," Is that what you're going to teach me? To kill with no remorse? To be a monster?"

"There's a difference between having to kill to survive, and needing to feel the rush of killing, making it your whole world."

"How do I know which one will apply to me?"

"You don't until you're in it."

I nod, but I keep my guard up, especially after what had happened the last time I had underestimated the man. Haymitch scratches the side of his face, his expression from off; before he clears his throat, looking me square in the eye.

"First things first, we need to gage where you are. You're going up against careers you have been training for years, and there's no fooling ourselves they all won't be out for your head. You got a target on your back, kid," Haymitch steps back, bending his arms at the elbow, stretching his muscles and leaning his head to each side, popping sounding as the stress knots leave his body," Now, I see how good you are when fighting careers when they're unsuspecting, and how you handled perverts trying to poke it to little girls, but how can you manage against someone ready for the attack?"

"I thought you said you wanted to see where my skills were at?"

Haymitch holds his arms out," We are. What better way than to put it to some real life application?"

"You want me to spar with you?"

"No, I want you to try to kick my ass."

I shake my head, walking towards him," I'm not going to get into a pissing contest with you."

"Here's the thing kid. You fight against your nature, you're a fighter plain and simple it's in your bones. There's nothing wrong with being able to defend yourself, but you can't stand the idea you may have to actually get real with yourself for once. There's a reason you almost killed Cray for hurting that little girl. Why you with stood Thread's whipping? Why the only reason you agreed to compete after watching others die? It's in you kid, but you have to get over all the shit in your head telling you, you're not strong enough."

"Snow seems to disagree with you, he has a solid opinion I'm weak."

"Fuck him," this gets my attention," Do you know how many times Snow has been out of his office in the dirt with the rest of us? Only twice, and the last time was about eighteen years ago, when a female code escaped. Snow doesn't lower himself for just anyone. You're special kid. And I'm hoping you don't get dropped in the first two minutes of being in the arena. So sack up and fucking attack me!"

Haymitch advances on me quickly and I turn my body away from the wall not wanting to get blocked in. We keep rounding each other, studying the other closely, our hands open revealing our palms to the other, ready for an attack.

My breathing is fast, and I tell myself to slow my pace, however Haymitch hasn't lost his composure, his eyes dark. I almost miss the extension of his arm as it flies to my right side of my face, but I'm ready for it and I lean back away, his fist moving in the space in front of the bridge of my nose.

I recover quickly catching his wrist and sending his elbow back towards him to collide with his face. His head falls back but pops forward quickly, as I'm attacked with a barrage of fists coming towards my body.

I slip pass most of them, only a couple catching me in the ribs, and one slamming at the side of my face. I keep my defensive stance as he stops attacking, wiping the sweat on his face on the hem of his shirt. I'm struggling to not hyperventilate, while he looks perfectly calm.

"Not bad kid, but you're afraid to attack. You can not be afraid to go on the offense don't wait for the other person to come after you."

I run my hand over my face wiping the sweat from it," Alright."

"I want to test you on different weapons. Most likely, swords, spear, knives, and perhaps archery."

I stand tall," The bow and arrow is my weapon."

Haymitch nods, "Very well, prove it."

It had taken Haymitch about ten minutes to hang a line of dummies from the rafters, each hanging from a thick piece of rope. He pushed the one on the far left to the side causing the others the sway back and forth. I stood in the middle of the training area watching him, as he walked over to the wall removing a silver bow with matching arrows.

He trudged over to me throwing the bow and quiver at me, my hands darting out quickly catching each. I turn the quiver on his side, an arrow sliding out. I lay the quiver down on the floor next to me. I balance the bow in my hand trying to get a feel for it, before placing the arrow at the nock. I position my body, my feet at equal placement matching my shoulders.

My arms bend at the elbow raising the bow to my eye line. I let go, the arrow flies into the chest of the center dummy. I keep my stance as Haymitch hands me five more arrows, telling me to show him something worth seeing, I nod as I place each arrow at the nock, once at a time, each one piercing where the dummies heart should be.

Haymitch instructs me to do it once more, but as I'm about to release an arrow, I see him coming from the corner of my eye. I point the arrow at his throat, but he's armed with a large blade, and he's close enough to knock the bow from my grasp.

I'm surprised at first, watching the bow and arrow clatter to the ground, my attention is soon back to him as he tosses me a blade, his stance at the ready to attack.

"You're good with the bow and arrows now let's see how you are with a blade."

"Why would I need the blade if I can just pierce them with an arrow?"

"Because you won't always be able to shoot, you need to be able to defend yourself at close range."

I don't have enough time to react before he lurches at me, I quickly side step his assault, as he knocks the blade from my hand. I jump back before his blade can cut my stomach, the material of my shirt now open showing the skin below.

I rear back, kicking him hard in the stomach, causing him to double over. I take this opportunity to slide for my blade, gripping it tight. Haymitch pounces on me, as I turn the blade to rest against my wrist, twisting my arm around to cut the side of his face. He stops short, grinning wide, his hand goes to the side of his face recovering a bit of blood. I'm still ready to attack when he throws his blade to the floor, laughing.

I straighten my back still holding the blade," That was for before."

"Now that is what I want, kid! Good work!"

"I did just cut you."

Haymitch shrugs," This. Naw I've had worse done to me by the women I've slept with."

My face scrunches," That's gross!"

"You took the offense, not just defense. And you are skilled, in the bow, but surprisingly enough the wielding of knives also. Have you always had this talent?"

I shrug," I was taught about archery from my mother, but the thing with the knives as has always been something I can do."

Haymitch nods," The knives, can you throw to long distances and not miss?"

I grin, turning quickly throwing the blade in my hand at one of the dummies still hanging, the blade embedding into its throat.

I grin even wider," I'm thinking…yes."

Haymitch lets out a deep laugh as he shakes his head. I stand there pleased with myself, as a knock sounds at the door. Haymitch walks by me, patting me on the back as he makes his way to the door. I turn my back stretching out my arms, preparing myself for another onslaught of training.

I can hear Haymitch talking to someone, and he oddly enough sounds cordial. I brush it away until I hear her voice coming from the other side of the room. I whip around quickly, watching her talk to Haymitch in hushed tones.

I can't stop looking at her, she's wearing black paints similar to mine, but she has a tight black sleeveless top on, the straps are thin and the skin above the middle of her back is bare. She's bare foot, and I can see sheen of sweat across her face, her dark hair is pulled behind her falling in waves. She glances to me, and nods to something Haymitch has said. I swallow hard as I find her padding over to where I stand.

A few strands fall in front of her face, as she becomes closer to me. She stops short a few feet in front of me, and I can't take my eyes from her, she looks absolutely beautiful.

I swallow again," I haven't seen you around much."

Daria pushes the hair from her face," I had something to do in the Capitol. I'm shocked you even noticed my absence with how busy you must be."

I lower my face, then look back up to her green eyes," I notice when you're not around."

I can see her blush, and I can't help but grin at her embarrassment. We both stand there watching each other until Haymitch walks up to us, watching our interaction. The silence is awkward and Haymitch gives a low long whistle before clearing his throat.

"Kid, you're good, but you have a weakness, which Snow and the other council members will take advantage of," I watch him closely," Broads," Daria glares at him and I have to stifle a laugh," Fine, women. This is why she's here, to give you an opportunity to get over it."

I can't help laughing out loud, as I point to Daria," You want me to spar with her?"

Daria narrows her eyes at me," Why is it so funny?"

I turn to her annoyed," I'm not fighting you!"

Daria holds her hands out in front of her pulling them together stretching out her fingers," You don't have a choice because I'm going to fight you."

Haymitch backs up a grin clearly on his face, I watch him walk back, leaving the practice mat," Haymitch you can't be serious!"

He throws up his hands, as I watch him lean against the wall casually. I'm busy trying to get another answer out of him when I'm suddenly struck against the side of my face, my head springs to the side, shock washing over me. I look to Daria who has her hands up ready to strike again, her green eyes are bright, and I'm almost too distracted by the way she looks, before she strikes again but this time I catch her fist, pleased with myself, grinning until she moves into me, kneeing me in the stomach, causing me to double over.

I'm still hunched over, as her knee comes up to my face but I block it with my hands shoving her to the ground. She falls to the mat, dark hair fanning around her, as I fall on top of her. We're inches apart, our breathing mingling with the other as our chests rise in sequence.

We hold eye contact for a few seconds before she hooks her leg onto my hip, her hand bracing at my shoulders, as rolling us over, so she has the advantage. I'm assaulted with a punch to the face before I block her before she can deliver a second. I throw her off to the side; she hits the mat rolling to a standing position. I stand up brushing off my knees as she comes at me once more. I wait until she's close enough before I take hold of her, running her into the nearest wall, her back slamming up against the wall.

Her right knee is caught between our bodies, and her hands are trapped also while hold them in my own. Our breathing is heavy, and I feel as though our sparing session was more about foreplay than actual training. I want to kiss her, and I lower my face to hers, until I'm caught off guard by her speaking.

"Don't kiss me."

I'm taken a back, hating the embarrassment I feel at the moment, more so when I hear Haymitch clapping from behind. I lower my head as I put her down to the ground. She averts her eyes from me, which is more than ok for me at the given moment. Daria walks over to the middle of the training center, while Haymitch still leans against the wall, grinning ear to ear.

"Not bad kid. You were golden as soon as she pissed you off, but you still didn't lead the fight."

I look to the side," I-"

Haymitch waves his hand in the air," We'll work on it some tomorrow. I need a drink."

I watch Haymitch depart the room without as much of a look back, the metal door slamming behind him. Daria and I are left in the training area alone, and I'm entirely nervous and uncomfortable to be with her alone. She has her head down, her dark hair shielding her face from me.

I clear my throat," You didn't have to be so aggressive."

She looks up at me, her face angry," Do you think you won't have to kill any women in the arena? Some are even fiercer than any of the men and more vicious. If you can't defend yourself than you'll die."

I shake my head," You nearly took my head off a couple of times. Why don't you fight your way out of here?"

Daria throws her hands up," And go where? Not all of us have mothers you will be out there waiting for us. You hate your father so much, but at least he's alive, you have some ribbon of hope, a way to know him. I don't have any of that. My mother is dead, and I don't think she ever told my father she was pregnant. So next time you want to feel angry about who your father is, be happy you at least have one!

She turns on her heel walking out of the training area, as I stand in my spot dumbfounded. I want to follow her, but I feel powerless around her, and all I wanted was to kiss her.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you're all enjoying the story! Review!**

-Stace


	7. Chapter 7

****Rated Adult for Language, Violence, and Sexual Content

**007A**

_**Brenton**_

The halls of the corridors beyond the competitor quarters are covered with deep red carpeting, while orange and purple tapestries hang on the walls. My footsteps are barely audible as my boots, tread the soft thick carpet. I'm on guard and I position my fists at my sides, prepared to take on an attack if need be.

I'm not familiar with this part of the compound, which initially raises my suspicions. After Daria had left, Haymitch emerged instructing me to make my way up towards the farthest part of the training facility. I tried to question him, but he waved my questions away, muttering about being accosted by a green dyed crazy woman, who wouldn't stop clucking about fabrics and the way certain feathers were hard to care for.

My brow had furrowed and he had explained since I was a high profiled competitor, I was to be dressed and guided by a stylist. When I had inquired about what this exactly meant he narrowed his eyes at me, mumbling something about clothes before he took a long lingering drink of a brown liquid held in a glass bottle.

Blindly he pointed to the door, telling me to get a move on, because if he had to talk to the irritating prep team again he was surely going to knock himself over the head with the glass bottle. I snickered, telling him I was more than willing to lend him a hand if need be, earning me a glare but I could see the start of a smile forming behind the rim of the bottle.

I stuffed my hands into my pockets, my shoulders slightly hunched over as I made my way to the door. I was almost to the exit when I could hear Haymitch mutter something, causing me to turn towards him, my brow raised in curiosity.

Haymitch met my stare, pounding his chest with his fist, a wet cough coming from his mouth, I tried to hide my disgust, as he cleared his throat after a few tries.

"Cinna's the stylist you'll be working with. Be nice to him, he's the few Capitol people around here who won't make you want to stick a pencil in your ear."

"Thanks for the visual, Haymitch."

He waves me off annoyed by my presence and more interested by the honey colored liquid sloshing in the bottle. I kept walking north passing what I assumed were the competitor quarters, before the walls and floors blended into deep oranges and reds instead of the cold grays of the training center.

I keep my guard up and I tense when I can hear voices a few yards ahead. I even more surprised when a line of young women, from what I can gather ranging from the ages of twelve to eighteen emerge from a door to my left. Each of them are dressed cleanly, their hair coiffed securely with pins while curls fall down their backs, as makeup gives the impression their skin is shining.

They're an upfront contrast to the female codes I've come in contact with, and I can't but stare either from their appearance or that each of them walks by me without a second glance. I've been so used to everyone staring at me or talking about me secretively, I'm taken aback by being a normal person for a change.

However, it's short lived when a blonde girl about twelve glances at me before focusing on me again. Her cheeks are rosy, with blush shining off her cheekbones. Her lashes curl upward with dark extensions attached, her gloved hand goes to her mouth which is covered in deep red lipstick, and a small squeak comes out of her mouth.

I stuck staring at her as she looks me up and down. I feel self conscious under her stare and I'm tempted to cross my arms over my chest.

Her voice is younger than I would have guessed by her appearance," I saw you on the broadcast. Everyone in the Capitol can't stop talking about you."

She giggles behind her gloved hand, as an older girl, the one leading the line, walks up grabbing the smaller girls' arms roughly.

"What are you doing talking to him? You know what will happen if you talk to a man who isn't sanctioned! Besides, he's has district coding."

I try to hide how uncomfortable I am," I'm Brenton Everde-… um Mellark."

The older girl turns to me glaring, her face is also heavily painted," We all know who you are," she yanks on the girls arm harder," Do you want to end up like_ her_? There are worse places you can find yourself."

With no regard she flings the younger girl into the line of the others who try to hide their fascination with me, as the older girl snaps her fingers making them all face forward quickly. Her red hair flies in front of her as she turns back to me.

Her posture is perfect; the purple wrap on her shoulders falls down her right arm, as she reaches for it, placing it firmly back in place. She keeps her head high, her gaze over my left shoulder.

"I would hope you to have more of a sense of propriety next time, before you try to engage any other courtesan in conversation."

I can't help how defensive my voice comes out," She was talking to me."

"Then simply ignore her."

"Does the same apply to you?"

She glances to me and I smile positive I've gotten a rise out of her," Courtesan's are not allowed to have any contact with a male who isn't Capitol born or otherwise approved by the council or Elective Snow himself."

I motion in front of me tightly," So if what you say is correct, you're breaking the rules right now?"

Her mouth opens in horror," I-"

"So what would happen if you talked to a man who wasn't _sanctioned_?"

She grits her teeth before answering me," Whipping most likely, or worse."

"Like death?"

She looks to me fully for the first time," There are worse things than death."

I nod," So has there been a courtesan you dares to be an actual person? And not a dolled up play thing for the Capitol?"

She points her nose upward," Only one. She's not someone we hold in high regard."

"She sounds important to me."

The girl lets out an annoyed breathe as she heads to the head of the line, the others look to me when she passes them, the blonde girl from before gives me a weak wave, I wave back to her. I lean on my toes as the girls head down the hall.

"Don't worry sweetie, I won't tell anyone you're human!"

I can see her shoulders tense, as she rounds the corner, the rest of the girl's following. The blonde hangs by the corner for a second before disappearing around the hall. I turn to face forward to walk down the hall further, when I jump back slightly, surprised by a tall man dressed entirely in black.

My mouth hangs open, not sure as what to say. He's watching me intently and I have to assume he witnessed my conversation with the red headed girl. I hitch my thumb in the direction she had walked, but I keep my attention on the man.

"It wasn't her fault. I was talking to her, so there's no need to report it to anyone."

I'm taken aback when he begins to laugh, his arms shaking against his chest," You are an enigma. The girl insults you with no regard, yet you still put your neck out for her. You don't disappoint, Mr. Mellark."

I motion to him, before crossing my own arms over my chest," Cinna, I presume?"

The man unfolds his arms to place is hands gently into each other," Yes. And you are Brenton Mellark."

"Yes."

"It wasn't hard for me to assume so. You look-"

"Yes, I know exactly like him. To be honest being reminded every second I look like a man I've never met is more than unnerving."

Cinna grins softly," Actually, I was going to comment on how accurate my friend was on your appearance," he points to my face," she even described the small freckle you have to the left of your nose."

"She?"

Cinna nods," 128."

My brow furrows," 128? You mean Daria."

Cinna seems perplexed," Yes. She told you her given name?"

I nod," Yes, she did."

He smiles," Then she must be very taken with you. I can't say I blame her," I can't help my shock at his comment, he turns waving me on to follow him," Daria is very particular with the company she keeps. You should be honored you were able to get more than one sentence out of her."

I follow him into a massive room with deep purple carpeting and blue curtains everywhere. Colors are vibrant, as paintings and sketches litter the walls. I'm taken in by the room and I almost miss what he's saying to me. I turn back to him, as he moves around the room searching for something.

"It took me a year to even have her voluntarily speak to me."

I shrug," Well mostly she just yells at me. Sometimes she punches."

A grin comes over me, but I'm surprised when he looks to me, his attention taken from his task," Daria, yelling? You must have really gotten under her skin."

"She's not like that with everyone?"

"No, she's not. She hasn't been that way for a very long time," he pointed to me" you must be special."

"How do you know Daria? If it's ok for me to ask?"

Cinna stands up, a stack of papers in his hands resting against his chest," We work closely together. Business with the Capitol."

I nod walking around the room studying the walls, admiring his rough sketches," Those girls from before, the one said they were courtesans. They're prostitutes for the Capitol aren't they?"

"Yes."

I nod turning on him," So, what your job is to make them all pretty? Put some paint on the tarnish district tramps? So the Capitol doesn't feel horrible about raping little girls?"

"You could say I help alter perceptions."

I walk to him closing the gap between us," Is this what you're to do with me? Make me into something special, something the Capitol will want to keep around."

Cinna leans his head to the side," You're already special Mr. Mellark. You do this on your own. I'm here to make them take notice. For you to make an impression."

"Isn't the name Mellark enough?"

"You're more than your name Brenton. But it is also a part of you."

"What do you mean?"

"Brenton means fire."

I nod," Yes. What does that have to do with anything?"

Cinna moves to the table across the room, a stray piece of paper in his hand. He nearly knocks a stack of books over as he searches for a pencil. I watch him warily as he marks on the paper quickly, his shoulders hunched over. After a few minutes he stands up turning to me, the paper held out towards me. On the paper is a rough sketch of me with fire rising up around me, I'm in awe of the clean lines, and how the flames seem to be a part of me an extension of my own body.

"I shall make you your name, Mr. Mellark. You will be the Boy on fire."

I lean back slightly, but I'm amazed by how comfortable I feel in this room, and I can't help but think of him as a kindred spirit.

* * *

007B.

The hall was cooler than she had remembered and she assumed it was because of the ventilation system going offline for a few minutes. The familiar hum was gone, but it still rang in her ears, as it did all night when she attempted to get some rest.

However, she couldn't bring herself to fully relax, as she sat on the shaky cot with her head against the wall. She tried to close her eyes, but every time she did so, she could picture her son's lifeless body on display for all of the Capitol to leer at. However, if it wasn't the image of her son it was the memories of Peeta Mellark's body pressed up against hers, neither scenario was helpful to her current mental state. She had wanted to kiss him, but his intoxication was a definite turn off, and she didn't want him to get the impression it was suitable for him to put her in that kind of position.

But she couldn't get the sound of his voice out of her head, the way he had been so vulnerable about the photos. He had a constant reminder of what he had lost, she had at least had their son and the gift of space, her memories were painful enough, but Peeta hadn't let go, and Katniss was afraid it had eaten away at him.

Katniss raised her hand to push the door forward, but she withdrew it quickly when the door came flying open. She stood there frozen as Peeta nearly ran into her knocking her back a bit, his hands catching her by the biceps. Her hair flew into her face as he pulled her forward, saving her from falling backwards.

His hands were warm on her flesh where her shirt left naked. Peeta held tight, before gently letting go as she righted her footing. They stood there in silence, barely making eye contact, before Peeta reached up to her face, moving the hair from her eye line to rest behind her ear, his hand lingered there for a few seconds before he cleared his throat, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his worn jeans.

She watched him for a few seconds, grinning at his boyish nerves, in those few seconds she was watching the boy she had found dying the forest. He ducked his head for a minute before straightening his back again, and she could physically see the walls being erected.

Katniss moved her hand behind her ear where his hand had been, she could feel his phantom touch and she wanted to reach out to him. He was watching her, as he scratched the stubble at his chin. She reached out lightly scratching at the side of his jaw, a grin on her face.

"You should shave."

He nodded," I thought about it when I was showering but I didn't think showing up to an important briefing with razor cuts would help my authority."

They both began to laugh in the doorway of his quarters, and Katniss was surprised by how familiar and safe it felt. Peeta ran his hand through his wet hair, droplets sprung out, and landing at his shoulders. Peeta sighed as he watched her and he had the urge to try to kiss her again but decided against it, based on the events of the night before.

He hadn't wanted her to see him in such a state, but she had a way of finding him at his weakness and making him feel whole again. Katniss filled the emptiness in side of him, and he wanted nothing more than to hold onto her. Katniss began to fidget with her hands and he smiled at her nervousness, she always was self conscious when he watched her.

Peeta cleared his throat loudly, causing her to be startled. He rubbed at his chin, as he ducked around her making room between their two bodies. Being in close proximity to her was starting to drive him crazy and he was becoming more option to the idea of pulling her to his body, and allowing his hands to freely roam. Katniss looked confused as he leaned against the far wall, rubbing the back of his neck.

"We should get started to make our way down below. Everyone's probably waiting for us."

Katniss turned towards his voice," Who is everyone?"

"The people who are involved in helping us get our son back."

She tilted her head to the side, her hair dropping to her shoulders as she watched him;" You didn't sleep did you?"

Peeta shook his head," No."

He didn't give her an opportunity to comment before he began to walk forward, stopping midway down the hall to call after her, his body still facing forward.

"Are you coming?"

Katniss ran her fingers through her thick dark hair, as she made her way beside Peeta. He gave her a sideways glance before he proceeded down the brightly lit hallways. Katniss recognized most of them from her walk the night before.

He kept silent; ignoring any attempt she made at trying to relieve some of the tension. She wrung her hands, the joints occasionally popping, as they made their way to the locked door with the control panel beside it. Peeta punched a few keys, his movement faster than Katniss could analyze, which gave her the assumption this was something he did regularly.

The door gave a loud popping sound before it sprung open, the hall inside was dark with only a few overhead lights for illumination. Peeta stepped inside walking a few feet before he stopped and turned to Katniss, making eye contact with her.

"This way," Katniss raised her eye brow at him and he grinned," I promise this isn't the part where I murder you and hide the body."

Katniss gave off a quick laugh," Ha! Like you would be any match for me."

Peeta lowered his head shaking it," True," he waved her on," Let's go. There are people waiting on us."

Katniss stepped through pulling the door behind her, as she looked up studying her new surroundings," So you keep saying."

Peeta ignore her retort, as he led her down the dark corridor. It was difficult for Katniss to see a few inches in front of her even with the overhead lighting. Peeta's footsteps were heavy, even more than she remembered seeming almost symbolic to her, as she used them as an indication of where he was heading.

She nearly crashed into his side as he stopped at a door, her hands were placed on his arm and the warmth of his body sent shivers through her. Peeta looked down to her, his face half lit by the muted green lights above.

Katniss withdrew her hands quickly, a blush covering her face and spreading to her chest. She was thankful for the darkness, not wanting Peeta to see the effect her had on her. Peeta watched her for a beat before pushing the door open, as he walked through. Katniss hung onto the door frame before inching herself forward to peer into the room.

She had to hold her gasp, as bright silver walls lined with screens made up the room. In the middle a large table was placed, as it beeped loudly. Katniss walked in cautiously, watching the many screens as some listed different names, slipping to another screen completely, while others had maps and coordinates flashing.

Peeta was in front of her, seeming unaffected by the whole experience as a tall blonde man approached them. Peeta kept his pace up passing the man as he spoke.

"You look like shit. Did you even sleep?"

Peeta's shoulder tensed," Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

The blonde man shrugged," Maybe because you look like shit."

The man stopped abruptly when he noticed Katniss, he looked her up and down, causing her to fidget under his stare, the floor beginning to fascinate her. She looked up watching him as he began to grin. He was handsome with golden skin and deep green eyes.

He was more kept than Peeta, his hair was cut short but seemed to be styled, and he didn't sport the same kind of scruff Peeta did. His eyes were playful but he seemed to hold some pain there.

"And who may you be?"

Katniss pushed her hair behind her," I'm Katniss."

The man shrugged," Oh," suddenly his eyes lit up and his expression turned from indifference to realization," _Oh._ I've heard a lot about you. So you're the reason he didn't sleep?"

Katniss shook her head quickly," Oh no!"

"I'm sorry to hear it; he could use some," the man motioned his side turned fist forward," release."

Katniss is caught off guard, before she can reply she sees Peeta walk up behind the blonde man. Peeta looks annoyed as he holds his left fist in the palm of his right.

"Finnick, let's not let the lady know how perverse you are right away."

"I'm just making a friend, plus she doesn't look like she scares easily."

Peeta rolled his eyes nodding towards Katniss," Excuse us," before Katniss can utter a word Peeta takes Finnick by the arm pulling him to the side," Do you think you can flirt with her after we rescue my son?"

Finnick furrowed his brow," Do you really think so little of me?"

"I-"

"I'm trying to help you out. I know you, especially when it comes to that woman. You're going to push her away when now of all times you two need to be a united front."

Peeta hangs his head down," It's difficult to even be in the same room with her. She's a reminder of everything I regret. A reminder of how I was never worthy of someone like her, and our son is where he is because he's mine."

"At least you have her here to serve as a reminder. I would give anything to have Annie standing across the room from me."

Peeta nodded looking over to a curious Katniss who began to study the changing screens above her," I know," Peeta ran his hands over his face quickly," Enough of this, we need to get started."

Peeta turned on his heel walking towards the large silver table, passing Katniss without giving her a glance. Finnick followed him, nodding for Katniss to follow as well. Katniss kept her hands firmly placed together as she took in her surroundings once more.

As she walked further into the room she could see a crowd of people working near computer terminals, with the screens floating in the air in front of them. Peeta took his place on the far side, as Katniss joined Finnick on the opposite.

She tried to catch his eye but he was stubborn to avoid her at the moment. She watched as he placed his fingers on the table top, a low beeping sounded, as bright blue lights started emanate from the table. Quickly words and maps which she recognized from the screens she had been watching earlier were now flashing in front of her.

She wanted to almost knock herself upside her skull for assuming it was an ordinary piece of furniture. She had to smile to herself when she recognized the workmanship, which led her to wonder if Beetee was another person Peeta had lost to the war.

She was shaken out of her reverie when Finnick elbowed her in the side gently. Katniss glanced up to me as he gave her a small smile; she looked up across from her where Peeta was standing to find him staring at her.

She cleared her throat, tucking her hair behind her ear, her eyes roaming the open space between the two men. Peeta rubbed the middle of his forehead, his lips tight, as he motioned towards Finnick.

"Finn was saying he gained intel regarding the reapings. Snow has suspended all impending ceremonies."

Katniss' eyes shifted between each man," What does this mean."

Finnick lowered his head as he cleared his throat," It means he's wanting to close the means of entry inside and out of the compounds," Finnick waves his right hand over the large screen brining up an aerial map of the camps," All of the camps are connected with the arena directly in the middle. There's tunnels leading beneath the arena, which makes it convient to transport the competitors to and from the arena. The problem is without a way in, there's no way of entering any of the entry points without tipping someone off."

Peeta tapped his own fingers onto the lighted screen, papers came up with names, Katniss assumed were manifests," In the past we used our own people to blend in with the reaped children from the districts. We have a few informants inside the camps, so it was easy to sneak thirty maybe forty codes out on a good day."

Katniss looks up from the screen, to Peeta slowly," Informant? Like Gale?"

Peeta met her eyes, his were dark and firm," Yes. But we're not going to lose them."

Katniss nodded, averting her eyes from his," So what's the course of action now?"

Peeta rubbed the back of his neck with his hand," We're still working on it."

Katniss rose her hands her palms showing," I don't want to be pushy, but now you know what," Katniss leaned forward her dark hair almost touching the screen below," I do mean to be pushy, because my son is there, and I came here to bring him home not to concoct plans and theory."

Peeta opened his mouth to speak as a voice came from the side of the room," I wouldn't worry about the kid too much, he's got a smart mouth but he can wield his bow pretty impressively not to mention the skill he has with knives."

Peeta busied himself with the screen before him as Katniss' mouth fell open as the wide shoulders of Haymitch Abernathy pushed off of the far wall, walking towards the others. Katniss glanced to Peeta who seemed unaffected by her surprise; she looked over to Finnick who looked just as shocked as she did.

Finnick crossed his arms over his wide chest," If it isn't Haymitch Abernathy. Perhaps it's a good thing I didn't shower yet seeing you'll most likely puke on me."

Haymitch scratched the side of his face," I only did it once."

Finnick glared at him but a smile began to emerge," Well the memory of a grown man vomiting on you is a lasting memory."

Peeta's head shot up annoyed," Can we move past this, it happened five years ago."

Finnick tilted his head to one side," Did it happen to you? No, it didn't. Let me own my own pain."

Haymitch ignored the spat between the two younger men as he tipped his head to the dark haired woman across the board from him," Katniss. I wish this wasn't a working visit, but it's always a pleasure to see you, sweetheart. Even if the whole reason we're in this is because you and the boy over there had no self control around seventeen years ago."

Katniss rolled her eyes," Hello, Haymitch. It's nice to see you walking on your own. What, did you run out of liquor?"

"Never," Haymitch hooks his thumb towards Peeta," The boy said no drinking while I was looking after the kid."

Peeta raised an eyebrow," You haven't been drinking, at all?"

Haymitch scrunched his face," No. I interpreted no drinking as not as much as you normally drink."

Finnick shook his head trying to stifle a laugh, as Katniss covered her face. Peeta cleared his throat as Haymitch leaned on the side of the screen, hunching over to study the flashing images.

"The kid's more skilled than I would have assumed," Haymitch turns his head towards Katniss," You did a damn good job with him, but he's afraid to take the attack, he's constantly taking on defense and I'm afraid if he can't make himself to strike someone else with a killing blow in mind, he'll get himself killed."

"He was afraid to hunt at first-" Katniss shakes her head as she holds up her hands," Wait! You're sending him into the arena to compete? I thought we were going to get him out before it could happen?"

Haymitch straightens his back as Finnick lowers his head. Katniss turns to Peeta who is already looking towards her.

"It was the plan initially, but with the grounds so locked down, there's no way of reaching him, let alone getting him out in a day."

Katniss kept her gaze on Peeta as he too was unable to break the contact, she could see the pain in his eyes and she assumed hers matched the turmoil swelling inside his. Her chest began to heave with tears threatening to spill out as Peeta gritted his teeth, causing his square jaw jut out.

"It'll be the only way to ensure your son's safety."

Everyone turned toward the voice coming from the same position Haymitch's had been before joining the others. A slender man with dark hair slicked back, wearing a deep purple suit walked towards them, his shoulders back with his arms at his sides. Katniss was curious about the way he carried himself, clearly he was someone of Capitol birth. Haymitch groaned loudly, as Finnick looked uncomfortable; Peeta seemed to be the only one unaffected by his presence.

Peeta's brow rose," Plutarch?"

Plutarch straightened his suit jacket as he joined Peeta at the north point of the screen," The boy is the key to any resolve we may reach where the resistance is concerned."

Katniss shook her head," I'm confused. What does that mean?"

Haymitch leaned back, narrowing his eyes at Plutarch," You set the kid up."

Peeta looked to the distinguished man," Plutarch?"

Haymitch rounded the table ending up behind Peeta," See I thought it was ass backwards when the Keeper on shift said that when the kid arrived you had been waiting by the front gate. That it seemed you knew of his arrival before anyone."

Plutarch turned his body to face Haymitch while Peeta still faced Katniss," It was necessary."

Katniss let out a shuddering breathe as she kept eye contact with Peeta, she could see he was beginning to unravel. His jaw was bleach white and she could see his square jaw flexing uncontrollably.

"You've been watching us."

Plutarch broke his stare with Haymitch to glance at Katniss," Yes. I needed to know his whereabouts if the time came where he could be useful."

Peeta slammed his hand down onto the screen, causing a long crack to form; the action caused Katniss to jump while everyone else in the room turned to him. He was gripping the sides tightly, and Katniss could see blood rushing over the broken glass. The bandage on Peeta's stitched hand was now becoming soaked in his blood; she assumed his stitches had broken open.

"My son is not some damn piece in your games!"

Plutarch looked to Peeta as he hunched over the table, his shoulders tense and Katniss could see him shudder. Katniss rounded the table, passing Finnick who kept his place, to stand at Peeta's side. She nearly knocked Haymitch over as she made her way beside Peeta reaching for his injured hand. He drew his hand away, ignoring her concerned as he turned his fury to Plutarch.

Plutarch held his hand up before Peeta was able to speak," The resistance is losing; we haven't had a clear view of when the end will come for some time now. Both you and Snow have collectively confused and divided the districts, as well as the Capitol. For most there's no real symbol to cling to, Snow has made you into this rogue killer who's is just as dangerous to the district as you are to the Capitol. There needed to be a tipping point and your son is the one to facilitate a victory. He is the symbol we have needed."

Peeta gritted his teeth," I trusted you because of your ties to my father, but all you are is a damn politician."

"You can think of me what you will, but I am unblended by sentimental views."

Finnick spoke for the first time since Plutarch arrived," How does that make you better than the ones we fight against?"

Plutarch shrugged," I suppose it doesn't, but I am willing to live with the consequences of my actions. There needs to be an end in sight or we all destroyed."

Peeta began to shake with anger as he reached for Plutarch, grabbing him by the lapels," You son of a bitch you sacrificed my son."

Both Haymitch and Katniss pulled him back away from the man; Peeta shook Haymitch off as he made no movement to move Katniss' hand from his body. Katniss looked to Peeta, her cheek resting on his bicep.

Plutarch straightens his suit jacket holding out his arms to smooth down the material there," Your child isn't the only one at risk."

"I know about the code children."

Plutarch straightened his back," I wasn't being general. I was referring to how you two aren't the only parents in this room of children who Snow has a special interest in."

Plutarch looked over to Finnick who stood frozen as the other eyes followed," Your daughter is someone Elective Snow is keeping a close eye on."

Finnick shook his head," That's impossible. I don't have a child, or at least one who's alive," Finnick motioned to Peeta where he stood with Katniss holding onto him," Peeta you were with me we found two graves in district four."

Plutarch nodded," Your wife Annie is deceased but your child is alive."

Finnick lowered his head as a wave of sickened washed over him, Haymitch's voice broke through his nausea," I've seen her."

Finnick looked to Haymitch his face washed in confusion," What?"

"I didn't know she was yours until a day ago. I'm keeping a close eye on her," Haymitch looked down before looking to Finnick," There's something you should know. She's being used as a courtesan; she has for a few years now."

Finnick shut his eyes, gripping his fists to his sides, his eyes opened to reveal bright green," You're full of all kinds of secrets aren't you Plutarch?"

Peeta closed his eyes as he gripped his bloody hand tight," Oh spirits."

Finnick looked to his friend," What?"

"My contact inside the courtesan establishment-"

"Yes, the stylist?"

Peeta nodded," He uses one of the courtesan's he styles for to gain intel on high ranking Capitol citizens and council members. He can gain access to certain documents when their otherwise engaged."

"So we've been prostituting my child for information?"

"I didn't know it was her."

Finnick's face became red;" You knew it was someone's child."

"Don't get sanctimonious on me. They're all someone's child."

Finnick shook his head," I guess Plutarch's not the only one in the room who's not any better than Snow and the Capitol."

Peeta opened his mouth to speak, as Finnick turned on his heel walking out of operations. Peeta rushed around the table, pulling away from Katniss. His hand hung at his side, the blood dripping onto his pants, some soaking into the fabric of his shirt. Katniss made it to his side as he stood watching the door Finnick had left out of, she grabbed for his hand.

"We need to take care of this."

Peeta pulled from her grasp, leaving her behind," Leave it! It doesn't matter!"

Katniss laid her left hand over her face, defeat washing over her, she turned to the remaining men in the room," What do we do now?"

Plutarch rounded the table stopping in front of her," Katniss, I-"

Katniss held up her hands," I don't want to hear anything from you either wise it has to do with getting my son back."

Plutarch nodded, as Haymitch walked to stand in front of him," What do you need us to do sweetheart?"

"I need you to keep the lines of communication open, and keep my son breathing."

Haymitch nodded as he slumped over making his way out the way he had came in. She stood there in awkward silence with Plutarch, she felt she was about to suffocate with anger and grief before he opened his mouth to speak.

"You've raised a remarkable son. He is quite extraordinary with the bravery and kindness I have witnessed already."

Katniss nodded," Thank you."

"I know I seem cold to you, but sometimes it's needed to achieve a goal."

"I don't care what you do as long as you make sure my son survives."

Plutarch nods as he turns around to follow the path Haymitch had taken moments ago. Katniss stood watching his fleeting back; the crowd of analysts across the room seemed unaffected by the entire situation. Katniss felt utterly alone, and she wanted to feel close to the one man she knew would push her away.

* * *

007C.

Katniss had roamed the compound after she had left operations, although she had sat down in the dark hallway outside of the door pulled her knees to her chest and cried. She assumed crying in a dark hallway was more suitable than having the entire resistance watching you have a breakdown.

She grieved for her son, for herself and the heart breaking need she felt to be close to Peeta Mellark. He had never left her mind, and having him so close was torturous. Her emotions were surging through her body and she prayed to the sprits for some guidance, for a phrase or sign to have her believe everything was set on a course of action where she could be able to be happy and feel safe.

She had to laugh at her naïve need, because she knew more than most that when you loved fiercely you were also setting yourself up to lose. Katniss sat in the dark hallway feeling sad for herself for a few minutes before standing up, her back sliding up the cold brick.

She knew her son needed her to be strong, because without her strength it would be difficult to bring him back to her. She had ran her hands through her thick dark hair before walking down the dark hallway towards the exit.

She had leaned against the wall watching a few children play when she had entered the populace. More than once she had to shut her eyes tight to stop the tears from rushing out. She had earned the stares and whispers much like before, but this time she was preoccupied.

Everything blended together, Peeta's warm skin against hers, the revelation her son had been chosen to represent a symbol for the resistance, the fact Brenton was to compete in the arena in less than a day. Katniss shook her head violently trying to clear it, she knew she needed to try to calm herself down.

Katniss rounded one of the many corners in the compound, as she did what she saw stopped her in her tracks. He was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, as his hands kept place in his pockets. She had to admit he was handsome, and he may have been someone she would find attractive if her heart didn't belong to Peeta.

Katniss debated on disturbing him or not as she watched him, but decided some company may help the both of them. She cleared her throat signaling to him she was present, it was successful as he opened his eyes turning to where she stood.

It seemed to take a few seconds before it fully registered for him who she was, until a small smile came over his face. Katniss returned the jester as she closed the gap between them. Finnick laid his head back once again, as Katniss leaned her own back against the bright sheeting of the wall.

Katniss sighed softly," I figured you could use some company," she looked up to him as he was quite a bit taller than she was," I know I can."

Finnick kept his eyes closed as he grinned," I don't doubt your need for company," he opened his eyes looking down to her," but I doubt I'm the one you want next to you."

Katniss breathed in deeply her shoulders slumping," It's so obvious isn't it?"

Finnick chuckled lightly," A little," Katniss nodded defeated," but you have a disadvantage against me. I know how much he loves you."

Katniss lowered her head, her hair falling around her face," Love was never the problem with Peeta and I, our timing was always the thing we needed help with," Katniss kept her head down as she wiped the tears running down her face," but lately I've been doubting he loves me anymore."

Finnick tried to duck down watching her," Why?"

"I found him drunk last night, it was hard to watch."

"Are you sure?"

Katniss nodded," Yes," she looked up her hair falling behind her," Why?"

"Because the only day of the year I've ever seen him drink is on Brenton's birthday."

"You know him well don't you?"

Finnick nodded," He's my best friend. He saved me, he gave me a purpose."

"I'm sorry to hear about your daughter."

"Thank you," Finnick gave out a strangled laugh," it's so funny to hear I have a daughter."

"You didn't know about her."

"No."

"You mentioned her mother, Annie. And that you lost her."

"I met Annie when we were seven; she caught me stealing from her father's shop. There was this silver spear and I would walk into town to just stare at it for hours, until one day I couldn't take it anymore and I reached up and took it from its hook on the wall. I didn't know she had been watching me the whole time, when I noticed her I dropped the spear on the ground and ran out.

After that I never went back, I think I was ashamed of what I was trying to do, but the way she watched me scared me, it wasn't through a little girls eyes but someone much older. When we were twelve she would follow me everywhere, at first it irritated me, she was so shy and pure, and I was something of a flirt with the other girls in the district, but when we were fourteen she kissed me one time when we were swimming, I was shocked I almost forgot to stop swimming," Finnick laughed shaking his head before he sighed and went on," I think I fell for her in that moment but about a month later I was reaped and sent to the farm.

I assumed with how skilled I was with the trident my father had left me after he dies, I would be sent to the arena, but I _blessed_ with good looks and the ones making the decisions thought I would better serve the Capitol as a courtesan, a prostitute. I served my years, and while I was used by Capitol citizens I picked up a few secrets, things Snow wouldn't want others to know, but I kept my mouth shut and went back home to the woman I loved.

We got married, but somehow I called back, we weren't married more than three months before I was taken back to the Capitol by a pair of Keepers, I never knew she was pregnant."

Katniss let Finnick's story soak in," How did you meet, Peeta?"

"He and a group of resistance fighters had crashed a huge party the council members were throwing. They had gotten some bad intel about a location, and it wasn't long before the entire place was in chaos. Peeta was clearing the room when a Keeper had come up behind him and I threw a paring knife which lodged into the Keepers throat. After that Peeta allowed me to help out when I could but I left for a bit to find Annie. Peeta was with me when we found the graves."

"So you saved each other's lives?"

Finnick nodded," I guess so," Finnick sighed," I know he can be stubborn, but I also know he needs you more than ever, and you need him."

Katniss leaned her head back sighing;" I think I'm more afraid of him loving me back than I am of him rejecting me."

Finnick nodded as he snaked his arm around her shoulder allowing her to lean against his side. Katniss closed her eyes, terrified of becoming closer to Peeta and having him realize he never needed her at all.

* * *

007D.

_**Daria**_

The room is smoky and crowded, causing me to find a far wall where I can hang back and hopefully fly under the radar. Glasses clink from around the room as laughter drowns out any semblance of silence. I try to hide my disgust, as many of the party patrons ingest a medicinal concoction which makes you regurgitate any remnants of food, so the drinker may be able to consume more than their body would allow.

My own stomach has turned and groaned this evening as I passed the long tables of food, but as normal I refuse to make myself comfortable to pretend peddling flesh is an acceptable pastime. The fact that I am of the few courtesans who feels this way is not lost on me as my fellow sisters join in the celebrations and joy.

I arch my back slightly, the ache in my shoulders is starting to weigh me down, and I reach to my chest adjusting the sides of the deep scarlet dress Cinna made for me, I can feel it sliding down, revealing more of my cleavage. I glance over to a mirror against the wall, and I stare at myself closely.

My eyes are shadowed by smoky coloring, causing my green eyes to shine more than usual, and my lips are dark red, only intensified by the golden hue of my skin.

My dark hair is brought back tight, twisted in a bun midway but allowing my hair to spill out down my back, as curls of brown brush against the skin of my bare back. I sigh as I try to kick the long train of my dress from under my feet, I had questioned the extravagance of my look to Cinna, but he assured me the event was special, something about yet another council member celebrating a birthday.

I scoffed and retorted with something snide which earned and small laugh and smile from Cinna as he pinned the dress around my body.

I was shocked by his reaction, although he seemed to not be effected by my indignance. When I questioned him about his reaction he merely shook his head and replied something about seeing through the cracks of the wall.

I scrunched my face confused which only caused him to laugh a little more. I sighed when thinking of how I felt useless standing in a room full of people who had more than they could handle when I instead could be back at the compound taking care of the younger girls.

I couldn't stop myself from smiling when I remember the twelve year old with dark curly hair who every night will crawl up on my bunk and have me tell her stories about the ocean. I would tell her the yarns the way my mother had for me, about princesses who lived in the sea and fell for their handsome hero from afar. Her eyes would light up as she listened intently, before snuggling into my side to fall asleep.

I wanted to keep things such as love and hope alive for the younger girls even if I had abandoned them long ago. I sigh, hoping no one in the room has noticed my absence as I mutter to myself slightly.

"Maybe being in love isn't what I'm meant for?"

"You don't really believe such a thing do you?"

I spin around to my side quickly frightened someone from the Capitol has notice my behavior, fearing some sort of punishment, I face the origin of the voice, I try to keep the anxiety from my face but I'm afraid I've failed miserably. I have to gasp when his bright blue eyes connect with my green ones, as his are creased from a deep grin. I can feel the panic raise in my body as I grasp his arm firmly.

"What are you doing here? You can't be here? How did you get out of the camp?"

He tilted his head as a part of his bangs fell into his eyes," You're asking the wrong questions."

I shake my head clearly confused," What are talking about?"

"Would it be realistic for me to show up here?"

I open my mouth to speak but close it instead. I feel dizzy and confused as I search my mind for answers, he hasn't stopped watching me. I'm beginning to panic for his safety when suddenly it all becomes clear.

I turn to him," You're in my head?"

"Yes," he placed his hands on his chest," well I am but the real Brenton Mellark is back at the camp."

I turn from him nodding as tears start to fill my eyes," So, I'm finally going crazy?"

My head is down when suddenly I feel a warm hand on my cheek turning my head towards him," No, not at all. This is just like when you go to a certain place in your head when you have to _perform_."

"So, of all the things to hallucinate about I pick Brenton Mellark?"

He smiles as he continues to stroke my cheek," Is it so hard to believe you would want to see me…him?"

"I-"

"He means something to you. Makes you feel safe, which is why of all the memories and faces you could have picked, he was the one you chose."

"How are you so sure?"

"I'm in your head remember? It's all coming from you."

I nod," So I'm not really talking to you right now am I?"

He shook his head, causing the rest of the dark hair to fall around his face," No, you're not. You're watching the crowd right now waiting for when you have to go upstairs with council man Crane. He almost beat you to death about two years ago. He was aroused by the pain he inflicted upon you. You kept crying out for your mother when the pain set into delirium," I can feel the tears stinging my warm skin, "You were in medical for about a week, and you've been standing here for the past hour dreading having to endure his body on top of yours."

"So, I thought of Brenton?"

"Yes."

The tears have started to fall free as his blue eyes search mine," You won't leave me will you?"

"Never. I'm always here."

I start to speak when I feel a grip on my right hand, my head turns forward quickly and I'm looking at council man Crane. I look over to my side but my image of Brenton is gone, I reach up to my face but it's dry without a tear. Crane leads me through the crowd of drunken socialites, as most have already passed out and in the process of their own crude acts of intimacy.

He drags me through the thick of it and I try not to trip on the long train of my dress. We reach the long winding stair case of the suit which leads up to the bed room and my stomach drops. I feel close to becoming sick, and I debate if I should try to fight back much like Brenton suggested I should but I decide against it.

The bed room is open to the stairs without a door and even though I've had to engage with other Capitol citizens in the open of a crowded room, I can feel the blush rising up my body. We reach the top of the landing and he pushes me up the last few steps but my body doesn't stop falling forward until I reach the bed. My hands fall flat onto the silk comforter, as my back hunches over.

The thick of my dark hair falls onto my chest as my breathing threatens to split the threads holding my breasts in. I breathe in deeply willing myself to calm down, but the impending pain is on the forefront of my mind. I can hear him walk into the connecting bathroom, most likely to change out of his clothes.

I stand up slowly my legs shake as I sit down on the side of the bed slowly. I reach to the side of my dress pulling the zipper down, allowing the top half of the dress to loosen its pressure against my skin. I almost want to burst into tears as the air hits my bear skin.

I lift my bottom up to slip the rest of the scarlet dress from body; my toes linger in the fabric before slip it off fully holding the top of it by my finger tips. I lay it down beside the bed slowly careful not to snag the fabric on anything. I return my arm to my side as I sit on the bed in only my lace under clothing.

The underwire of the strapless bra is digging into my skin and I use the inside of my biceps to move it around a bit. I can hear him moving around in the next room and I pray to the spirits to have me pass out before the brunt of the pain sets in. I glance to my side and I almost shriek when I see him sitting next to me. He seems amused by my reaction and I instinctively cover my body with my arms and pull my knees to my chest.

My voice is small and ashamed by how it begins to break," I thought you had gone."

"I told you I wouldn't."

"I don't want to be with him."

"You don't have to."

I turn on him furious," Yes, I do!"

Brenton nods," Yes, physically but not mentally or emotionally," he reaches up placing his hand against my ear and I can't help but lean into his touch," You can imagine it's me with you."

I close my eyes," I've imagined being with you…him more than once."

He begins to talk when I can hear the door open; it feels as though it so far away like part of a dream or after thought. I begin to panic and I feel my heart beating faster.

"He's coming!"

Brenton stands from the bed to kneel in front of me, his hands gently holding onto my biceps, his voice is calm and kind," So me how you imagined it."

"What?"

"Show me. Make you and me the reality, everything else will just be a dream far off. The mind is very powerful, and I know you're strong enough to do so."

I nod as I pull my legs from my body," Ok, come here."

He stands up midway lowering his face to mine, my breathe is caught in my throat as he becomes closer and his lips are inches from mine.

"I've never been kissed before."

He smiles against my lips," I know."

My muscles freeze when his lips crush against mine, and I can feel tears fall into the edges of lips which aren't touching. I'm lost in him and the pressure of his lips as he pushes his tongue against my lips asking for entry. I comply and moan as the heat of his mouth meets mine.

I can feel his hands moving from my arms to my back as he strokes my spine with his fingers and I shiver underneath the soft calluses of his fingers, just how they felt from when we were sparing. He traces the curve of my spine as he finds the dainty lace of my bra, unhooking the garment easily.

The piece of clothing falls between up and I sigh at the cool hair hitting chest, my skin is warm and I'm buzzing all over. His hands are flat against my back, and I move my own hands to his chest where I find his heart beating fast. I smile into his mouth, as he kisses me back.

"I can feel your heart beat."

He stops kissing me to rest his forehead against mine," You excite me. You make me happy."

I shut my eyes tight;" I wish it was true."

He pulls back slightly, to look at me; he places his hand on my chin pulling my face up to his, as I open my eyes to look into his.

"How can it not be?"

"Because you're not really him. This is all in my head. The real Brenton could never feel those things about me."

"Do you remember when Thread was about shoot you and how I was beside you and I only agreed to compete when you were in danger?"

"Yes."

"I didn't want you to get hurt," he places both of his hands on my face," I… he cares about you. How can he not?"

The tears begin to rush down my face washing over his own hands," I think… I think I lo-"

He leans forward pressing his mouth to mine, it's deep and unrelenting, and I make myself drown in it. He pulls back from me slightly, but his lips are still up against mine.

"Make love to me, Daria."

I open my eyes, to search his as I nod slowly. He closes the gap between our lips as I toss the bra in my lap to the ground. I grab hold of his dark t-shirt, balling the material in my hands. I lean back pulling him down with me; he glides over my half naked body as we scoot further onto the bed angling our bodies to rest straight.

He lets go of my face to reach behind me to collect my hair fanning it above my head, as I settle into the pillows. His clothed chest presses into my bare one, I can feel his heart beat slamming into mine. I let go of his shirt as I continue to kiss him, my hands travel down to the hem of his shirt pulling it over his head, our lips part for a few seconds before he finds mine again.

I toss the shirt to the side, my hands travel down to the fasten on his pants unbuttoning it slowly. His warm mouth moves down to my jawbone to proceed down to my neck, sucking at the skin there lightly, as I push his pants down as far as my reach will allow.

He lets go off me to push his pants down enough so that he can use his feet to do the rest until the article of clothing is off entirely. He's not wearing any under clothing and I can feel his erection push against the thin lace of my panties.

He stops kissing me to look into my face as he studies me, his strong hands travel down the skin between up to stop at my hips, his fingers hook into the fabric there as he pushes them past my core and down past our adjoin skin where out thighs meet.

Now there's nothing between us and I can feel him breathe in deeply as I thrust my own hips up as he watches me. I move my hands up to his shoulders as he enters me, and I can't stop the guttural moan which escapes my throat. All of me is warm and I feel dizzy and almost giddy as he moves inside of me. I part my lips as the moans escape even more, as sweat has begun to bead on my chest and face. He thrusts into me gently but with pressure and I'm lost in the feel of him as I ride the wave of passion. He continues to push, our skin causing friction, as he kisses me gently on the nose to rest his forehead against mine. I look into his blue eyes, and I can't help but smile.

My voice is raw and hoarse;" I think I love you, Brenton."

He smiles back at me, and I continue to imagine it's the man I care for making love to me instead of the vicious creature who in reality is raping a vulnerable girl.

* * *

007E.

She stood in the brightly lit hallway staring at the door to his quarters the same action she had been doing for the past few minutes. She had lifted her arm to knock on his door at least half a dozen times, but each time when she was about ready to actually meet her hand to the metal, she would decide against it and return her hand to her side. Katniss ran her hands through her hair frustrated as she soon left her strands and flexed her fingers in front of her letting out a low sound of disgust.

"Uhh."

She knew she was psyching herself out; she was behaving like a moronic teenager when she was in fact a grown woman. She turned to the side to leave but then as she had for the past few minutes turned back to the door. She sighed as she lifted her hand to knock once again. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the door flew open. Katniss' mouth opened as she searched for something to say as Peeta's blue eyes watched her intently.

He leaned against the door frame, his bandaged hand hanging into the hallway, as the other was hooked into the loops of his jeans by the thumb. Katniss' eyes fell on the bare skin of his chest and she was happily surprised of how fit he was after all these years. The scar from before she marred his chest, the skin there still a beautiful pale ivory as it always was, but she could see the remnants of a tan. She looked back up to his face where he was now grinning; she assumed he had caught her examining his chest. Katniss cleared her throat trying to relieve some of the tension.

"Were you going somewhere? If you were I can go."

Peeta rose his wounded hand up," No. I just noticed the shadow of someone standing outside my door for the past ten minutes and thought I would check it out."

Katniss shut her eyes tight, embarrassed," You saw me?"

Peeta nodded as he laughed a wide smile on his face," Yes, I did!"

Katniss extended her hand pushing against his chest lightly," Stop it! It's not funny!"

Peeta laughed even harder," Oh, yes it is!," he tried to slow his breathing as his chest shook with laughter," I love seeing you nervous, you're cheeks get all red and your voice goes up a decimal."

She shook her head joining him in his laughter, as she glanced to his bandaged hand. She noticed the white bandage was now dark with dried blood and she reached out to his hand, grasping his fingers lightly as she turned the hand over to have the palm facing towards her.

He watched her as she unwrapped the bandage from his hand careful not to catch the material in the still threaded sutures. Katniss finally was able to uncover the wound to examine the damage. A few stitches had broken as she suspected, and she feared it wouldn't heal properly if she didn't correct matters. She tilted her head studying the injury.

"You popped more than one stitch."

"Yh, that's what happens when you slam your injured hand against a glass top."

Katniss nodded," It would appear so."

Peeta curled his fingers onto hers, holding her hand as well as he could," Do you mind fixing it up for me?"

Katniss ducked her head slightly before squeezing his fingers back gently," No, not at all."

Peeta broke out into another grin," Good because I already set everything out, while I waited for to come back."

Katniss' head sprung up looking him in the eye," You knew I would come back?"

"Of course, we always manage to find our way back to each other one way or another."

Katniss searches his eyes for a few seconds before he pulls his arm back wrapping his fingers tighter around hers.

"Let's go restitch my hand before start to bleed again."

Katniss nodded as small smile came over her lips," Ok."

Peeta led her into the room as she followed him keeping his hand elevated as he shut the door behind them. The metal of the door shutting echoed through the room, as she pulled him towards his bed to sit down. She looked over to a small table where he had set everything out for her to work with just as he had said.

Peeta sat down as Katniss let go off his hand tossing the dirty bandage she still held in her hand over to the side. She reached for the silver scissors, handling them firmly as she cut the remaining thread free from his skin. Peeta hissed as Katniss pulled the thread free.

"Sorry."

"Don't worry about it.," he tilted his head to the side a glint in his eyes," I like it when you're rough with me."

Katniss laughed as she pulled the last remaining threads free," Nice."

Peeta watched as she wove the new stitches through his hand, she tried not to wince when the needle pierced his skin.

"This was so much easier when I was drunk."

Katniss shook her head as she continued her work. Peeta couldn't help but watch her as she worked; she would occasionally bite the outside of her lip, a concentrated look on her face. When she finished stitching his hand back up and the clean bandage was in place, she let go of his hand and Peeta already could feel her pull away.

He needed for her to be close again and he knew it was up to him to make something happen. When she began to turn away he reached out with his well hand grabbing the material of her shirt pulling her forward until his fingers could spread over her hips. She looked surprised for a minute, as he began to speak.

"I…I still love you, Katniss. I never stopped," Katniss opened her mouth to speak but he continued before she could," and the photographs…I wasn't trying to be selfish I just couldn't let go. And every second I don't have you next to me has been tearing me up. I am in love with you, and I didn't tell you this to pressure you into anything, but I just needed you to know."

Peeta lowered his head; slowly he could feel her warm hand make contact with his skin. He looked up as her face was inches from his. Peeta began to question her as her lips connected with his. The kiss was gentle and cautious at first until Katniss pushed forward, the pressure intensifying.

Peeta was lost in her as she parted her lips pushing her tongue against his lips demanding entry. Peeta obliged as his tongue met hers in a fury of heat and years of unrequited sexual tension. Katniss' other hand found the other side of his face, as his fingers gripped onto her side tightly, he laid his wounded hand against her side as their lips and tongues fought for dominance. The room was beginning to become warm, and Katniss was finally feeling alive for the first time a very long time.

* * *

007F.

_**Brenton**_

The wall of the training center is hard as I continuously knock my head against it. Everything feel so utterly control and I figured having my brain register some subtle pain may help me think more clearly. When I returned from seeing Cinna, who had measured every inch of my body, Haymitch was waiting as he drank from his silver bottle. He was sitting on a metal bench and his head was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. I was half attempted to blow him off and make my way back to my cell when he looked over at me.

"Took you long enough."

I pulled at the collar of my black t-shirt," Yh, well the man is committed to his work."

Haymitch brushed the front of his pants off as he stood," Sounds like fun," he sighs as he turns to me," You're to compete tomorrow."

My shock is clear," What? I…I just started training. Every new competitor gets at least a week to train."

"You're not just any competitor, kid."

He walked past me patting my shoulder, as he glanced at me, his eyes were fallen and I could sense his own dread. I had trained off and on for about two hours before I decided to lean against the wall and pout. I traced the tip of the blade I held against the matted floor of the training area.

My mind kept going to many things, I would think of Daria and the way I had wanted to kiss her before she turned me down, but mostly I thought of my mother and the things she had taught me and it had become clear she had been preparing me for this moment, the one where I would be expected to fight for my life.

However the memory I kept flashing back to was the one where I found out a truth which would change the course of my life and the reason why I was here in this particular situation.

I had been thirteen and my mother and I were living outside of district 7, the forests were thick and they reminded my mother of her childhood. I had been searching for a particular knife I liked to use when I went hunting, and I assumed she had hid it, since the last time she caught me using it as I practice my knife throwing.

I started to rifle through her things when I found a canvas bag filled with sketches, books, and photographs. I admired the clean lines of the drawings and the words in the books were some my mother had made me memorize. But it wasn't until I started looking through the photographs that I was truly curious. Some were of my mother lying next to a garden, her stomach swelled I assumed it when she was pregnant with me.

But the one's which caught my attention the most were the one's of a blonde man with blue eyes. It took me a few minutes studying his face before I recognized who he was, it taken me a bit to place him but his face was unmistakable. I clutched the photo in my hand and ran to the front room where I knew my mother would be, creating more arrows.

True enough she was rocking in her chair humming to herself, she looked up smiling at me, but her face changed when she saw how serious I appeared.

She stood up placing the feathers in the chair as she walked over to me, tilting her head in curiosity.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing I was curious why my mother would have a photograph of a known murder and thief?"

She shook her head," What?"

I held the picture out for her to see," Why do you have a picture of Peeta Mellark? I recognized his face from some of the posters through the districts"

"Brenton-"

"Why mom?"

"It's very difficult to understand-"

"Is he why we've never lived anywhere longer than six months, or why I don't go to school like normal kids? Why I can't have any friends? Why I spend my time combative training, or why we run escape drills? What's your connection to him?"

She held out her hand," It's not about my connection, not entirely."

I searched the space around us," Me? Is he my father?"

She closed her eyes," Yes."

I shook my head violently," No! No! My father was a war hero, he died as a hero!"

"Gale did die, and he was a good man who loved you as his own but he wasn't your real father."

"How could you lie to me?"

"I didn't want you to get hurt."

I looked up at her angrily," I already am, mother."

She had walked into the other room, we didn't speak to each other for three days. I had been angry with her, but I think even then I could understand why she had seen the need to lie to me. Since then I had been determined to find out as much as I could about the man who was my father, I would leave the house in search for any information I had heard about him. It just so happened I had a way with people, to make them trust me so I could manipulate information from them. The latest information I had heard was something about him having family who had once lived in district twelve, although all I found was a burnt down building. The district was more than not barren, and I didn't see a Keeper presence until I was ambushed a few yards outside what I assumed was the square.

I knocked my head against the wall once more as the knife fell to the floor my grip lose. I knew what was in store for me the next day and I needed to be prepared for anything.

* * *

**A/N: The Arena is coming up! Review!**

-Stace


	8. Chapter 8

****Rated Adult for Violence, Language.

**008A**

_**Brenton**_

The hallway is darker than I remembered as I make my way past the colorful tapestries and the anxieties I've been suffering for the last few hours is to a boiling point. Every bit of will power I have keeps me moving forward as I finally reach the tall wooden doors.

I take a few seconds before I push the doors open, a deep groan emanates from the doors. I keep my hands on the right side door as I walk over the threshold. I remain near the door frame as I search the office for its inhabitant.

I find him standing in the corner with his back to me. He seems unaffected by my presence as he holds a book flipping through the pages. I debate on whether to exit or to walk in further, but I decide on the latter.

I clear my throat, assuming he'll finally turn around instead he extends his free hand pointing behind him towards me.

"Close the doors, Mr. Mellark."

I nod, turning around slightly to reach the doors and pull them closed behind me. I release the knobs and turn back to facing where he remains to stand.

I begin to walk towards his desk which sits in the middle of the room. He turns around to face me his slender build glides up toward where I stand. He still holds the book as he approaches the desk, setting the book down gently.

He looks down to where the book now lays a piece of his dark hair falls out of place to lay against his jaw line. He reaches up with nimble fingers to smooth it back with the others. He looks to where I wait, my hands shoved into my pockets.

"I suppose you have questions to why I have asked you to come here at such a time."

"The thought has crossed my mind."

He studies me for a few seconds before he furrows his brow," You haven't been sleeping, have you?"

I shrug indifferent," Sleeps not really a concern when you're hours away from your execution."

Plutarch watches me closely," Such a bleak outlook?"

"It's a bleak time."

Plutarch rounds the desk ending up at my side," It doesn't have to be."

"What would you suggest to change the fact I am going to be sacrificed in the name of entertainment on the sole fact of who my father is?"

"There's nothing I can do to change the course of events which are to unfold, but I am willing to help ensure some faith in yourself which you are lacking."

I begin to open my mouth to question his meaning when he unfolds his hand slowly. Curiosity has taken over when I peer down into his hand. A golden pin with a bird in the middle clutching an arrow in its beak lies in the center of his palm.

"It's a piece of jewelry."

He shakes his head," My boy it's more than just a pin; it's a symbol of free thought. A symbol of how some things cannot be silenced. It's the epitome of resilience."

I raise an eyebrow," You get all of that from a bird pin?"

Plutarch shakes his head and I think I almost see the start of a grin," You are so much like your grandfather," this perks my interest and I begin to question him when he continues on," Do you know the story of the jabberjay?"

I nod," Yes, my mother told me of it. The Capitol created these birds to be spies but when it was discovered by the Capitol that the birds could be fed any type of information even false details, they released the birds into the wild to die off, but instead they thrived by mating with female mockingbirds to create the mockingjay bird," I run my hand through my hair confused," What does it have to do with anything?"

Plutarch extends his hand hovering it above my closed fist, as he waits for me to finally open mine as he drops the pin into my palm. It's lighter than I would have assumed and I look up to him questionably. He nods toward my hand, as he crosses his arms.

"Turn the pin over to where the clasp lies."

I furrow my brow, as I roll the pin over in my hand, when the clasp is facing upwards I squint to look where he has instructed. At first I don't see anything until I look a bit closer. Very faintly a name is scrolled and it takes me a few seconds before I can even make out the lettering.

My mouth moves slowly as I carefully sound out the letters," Luka Mellark," I allow the name to roll of my tongue as the realization sinks in," Peeta's father? My grandfather?"

"Yes, this pin belonged to him," Plutarch looked down taking me aback as it's the first time I've ever seen him lower his guard," He was a good friend of mine. We both served on the council together, but Luka was always of pure character. He was better than the rest of his fellow Capitol born."

I study him for a few minutes before I ask him the question I've wanted to utter for a while," Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because you need to know who you are, where you come from, who has come before you, before you can fully evolve into your potential."

I wrap my fingers over the pin, as I extend my hand to his," I think you have me mistaken with someone else, I'm not who you would assume me to be."

Plutarch pushes my hand back to my chest," I'm not wrong in my faith of who you have the fate to be."

"I'm sorry but I'm not Peeta or Luka Mellark. I'm not who you're looking for."

"Perhaps the problem is not with my predictions but with the lack of faith you have in yourself, Mr. Mellark?"

"I-"

"You are this pin, Brenton. You are resilience, and you thrive in hostile surroundings. There's a fire in you, and the only fault I see in you is your inability to allow this inner fire to roam free. Your own fear will be the thing which kills you."

I squeeze the pin tight as it presses into my palm," Well, I suppose after tonight one of us will be proven wrong."

Plutarch looks at me dead on," I pray to the spirits, it will be you who is proven wrong."

* * *

008B.

_**Brenton**_

It's a long walk back to the training area from Plutarch's office than I would have assumed. When I enter the training room, all of the weapons and training dummies are put away. The room looks as if it did before I ever set a foot inside of it. I still hold the pin in my palm and I'm half determined to drop it on the floor and leave it to be picked up or stepped on.

Plutarch's intentions were noble but they only remain as a constant reminder that I fall short of all the expectations everyone seems to have of me. The more I learn of my lineage the more I feel invisible. I feel the surname strangling me, and all I want is to be able to breathe.

I almost miss him leaning against the wall, startling me which causes me to trip over my own feet which pitches me forward a few feet. Haymitch shakes his head as he places the silver flask against his lips.

"You better hope you have more grace than that in the arena."

I ignore his quip as I right my footing," What are you still doing here? I thought the mentors were supposed to already be in the Elective's box by now."

"Elective's box," he scratches his head as if he had misplaced something," Oh, yes that over indulgent rat den. It's not hard to understand I have to be drunk around that frilly lot, but they don't have the good sense to stock it up with liquor that can actually do some damage, there's only colorful fruity swill."

I roll my eyes," My heart goes out to you, really Haymitch. Your biggest problem is having to pass out on water down concoctions when all I have to deal with is not getting my throat slashed."

Haymitch stands up, his face scrunched," You're mean when you're grumpy."

"Grumpy? I think frightened was the word you were looking for."

Haymitch walks toward me," What do you have to be scared of?"

I let out a short laugh," Are you kidding me? I'm about to be thrown into the lion's den and you're treating it as something as mundane as taking a stroll through the forest!"

Haymitch stops in front of me, sighing," Kid, all you have to do is have a little faith in yourself. You're ready."

I look him straight on," Am I?"

Haymitch takes in a deep breath, as he looks down at his feet than back to me," I'm not wrong in assuming you viewed all of the tapes of my games," I shake my head as he continues on," It was different for me, I didn't have a family waiting for me on the outside, hell I hardly even had a mentor for training before I first stepped a foot into the arena.

I had a few skills from before I came to the farm, but what I really took from was my anger, the huge knot of rage inside of me. It wasn't about surviving for me it was about spreading the pain around. I wanted everyone to feel the over powering grief I felt every day. So when I would fight it was from somewhere primal and eventually I was lost in it.

After awhile all the bloodbaths and killing ran together, there were times I would lose days. Finally I was released from the farm, but I was so far gone I wasn't even a shadow of who I had been. After a few years of scavenging I met someone who showed me the way, he helped me find my path.

He used to tell me that there are no victories only battles, and the most important thing is where we chose to make our stand," he motioned down to my clutched hand waiting for me to unfold my fingers to reveal the gold pin within," You hold his pin now," The shock on my face is obvious as I search his face," The real question is Brenton, is this where you make your stand?"

"All I know is if I'm going to die I want to still be who I am, but that's the point I don't know where I begin. I have no idea who I am."

"Well today is as good a time as any other."

"What if I do find out and I don't like what I see?"

"Look kid, it's no shock that I don't like most people," I can't stop the sharp snort which sounds between us," but I see you. I watch how you are with the younger codes, how you look at Daria. You have a quality in you that's not seen around here very much… you're honorable and that will carry you further than any type of rage ever will and that's what you need when going up against Snow. You're good kid; show them how good you are."

"What if I enjoy the killing? When I was beating Cray, I felt vindicated. I liked it. What if I become lost too?"

Haymitch reaches down folding my fingers back over the pin," Then I'll be there to pull you back, like your grandfather did for me."

* * *

008C.

_**Brenton**_

The corridor leading to Cinna's studio is significantly more vacant than it had been before. The sounds of the footsteps behind me echoed underneath the under tones of the wind howling outside. I glance behind me to clarify the Keepers are still close, regretfully the men keep a close proximity to me and I roll my eyes at their presence.

I was shocked when they had come into the training room unannounced; arriving seconds after Haymitch had left. He had given me one last look before gave me a curt nod, as he vacated the room. I stood there frozen watching the space he had occupied, until the Keepers had moved me along with the threat of shooting me in my place.

I quipped about the unfortunate inconvience they would have to suffer if Elective Snow learned of their executing his new rising star primarily because neither one had the patience to wait a few seconds. Neither one responded and I thought it best not to instigate anything.

The halls are still washed with color and I snicker to myself the irony of a place so bright in color but so dark with its actions. We finally reach the doors; I reach out pushing them forward. A sweet smell hits me head on, and I can't help but smell it in deeply.

I spot him before I'm able to set foot into the room. He's hunched over, his hands are working on something and I feel almost rude to be interrupting him, as I clear my throat loudly. He gives a sharp turn of his head to peer behind him; his face is concentrated and stern until it registers who I am.

A small smile comes over his features and he waves me in, as he turns back to his work laying something out before standing to turn. I'm still standing in the door frame when he waves me again as he approaches me.

"Come in, come in," I step through, the Keepers follow but Cinna holds his hands up," No, not you! I can't have all those guns about when I'm trying to work! Out, the both of you!"

Both of the Keepers look like scolded children and I try to hide the smile on my face. I step further into the room as the doors close behind me with a resounding click.

I hook my thumb behind me," Snow's afraid I'll try to make a run of it. He's making his drones sure I don't make it so. He doesn't want to miss out on his blood bath."

Cinna nods slowly," I assumed so, but you're not the running kind are you Brenton?"

I shake my head," No."

Cinna rubs his hands together, clearly pleased as he starts to circle me.

"I've designed and created what you'll need to wear for the arena as well as any individual specifications you'll need regarding your weapons of choice."

"I didn't know preparing to die warranted such an affair."

Cinna stops his movement as he looks at me," Are you?"

This catches me off guard," What?"

"Are you preparing to die?"

"Cinna let's be realistic, here. I know my place, I'm the sacrificial lamb. The last nail in Peeta Mellark's coffin. Snow's using me to finally destroy any fraction of power the resistance has. If I was any other code I would be on wash duty."

"Perhaps you should see this as being reborn?"

"I don't follow."

"You're going to be tested in the arena. You'll discover depths to your psyche you never knew existed, and the real choice is how you venture through those toils and snares? Will you allow yourself to merely be lost or beaten or will you draw a sense of power from them?"

"I'm afraid I'm not strong enough for this."

Cinna walks toward where he had been working before," I'm betting you are."

The side of my mouth rises slightly, before I become solemn again. I watch him closely as he reaches up to a garment bag unzipping the vinyl slowly. He reaches in with his free hand pulling out a leather breast plate dyed red and black.

He walks over to me after he's discarded the bag holding onto the armor with extended arms. He stops in front of me speechless as I observe the intricate designs. Over each strap is a type of lettering following by what seems to be flames.

The center of the piece holds an oak tree with flames surrounding it. I reach out to trace the stitching with my fingers. I linger on the writing, before I look up to Cinna as he studies my reaction.

"What does the lettering say?"

Cinna looked at me seriously as he inhaled slowly," I am not who I am by accident. I am my actions, my choices. I am the voice of my own destiny," his fingers traced each word as he spoke periodically glancing up to me as if he had memorized the words," I will not go quietly, I am a resounding scream against injustice, and I am more than a piece in the game of tyranny."

"I like it."

Cinna holds the piece out to me," I thought if anyone could wear these words with truth, it would be you."

I take it tentatively, it's surprisingly light, " Thank you."

He walks back over to a bench which has fabric and more garments bags strewn about. He picks up a pair of simple black pants, similar to ones I wear now. He scans the area quickly, before he turns back to me.

"The prep team will be in shortly to help clean you up properly, so I can begin my work."

"I want to be optimistic but I have a feeling you have more in mind for me than this."

I hold the light armor up, as he nods a twitch of his mouth his visible.

"Tell me Brenton, are you afraid of fire?"

* * *

008D.

_**Brenton**_

My entire body is warm but I assume it's more of my perspiration from anxiety than the flaming cloak I now wear. I had initially been weary of Cinna's ideas to engulf myself in flames, but I decided to trust his vision.

After the prep team had covered me in every product in their arsenal, Cinna had fitted me for the armor and the black pants, thankfully he allowed me to wear the boots I had, they were already broken in and the last thing I wanted to deal with in the arena was a pair of shoes I wasn't comfortable in.

Granted it sounds bizarre to be concerned with something as incidental as foot wear but when you're more concerned with the pain in your feet than the person hurling themselves at you with fury, it helps to be comfortable.

The prep team vacated the room, although not before woman bathed in green was able to linger around my stomach. Cinna tried to hide his grin as he scolded here softly. When they were finally gone, Cinna helped me with the armor on, as well as tying on a brace for my arm which would allow me to shoot more accurately.

The breast plate slid on easily over my bare skin, as the sides were snapped on securely. The cloak had come last and I had to adjust it accordingly over my body, the weigh had more volume than I would have expected and I was curious as to why.

Cinna explained a layer of fluid was laced through the fabric, but wouldn't have contact with my skin or hair. I swallowed hard as he situated the cloak, and I genuinely prayed to spirits not to be burned to death. After I was dressed, a Keeper came to escort us up towards a tunnel which would lead to an open pathway where I would be presented to the Capitol as a competitor.

I heard the crowd before I saw the tall archway, light burst into the sky and I tried not to be unnerved by the spectacle of it all. The cloak's hood was over face, only my lips were visible, as I waited my turn to walk down the way. An announcer was filling the sky with its voice but the words became lost in the booming sounds cluttering the air.

The Keeper from before motioned for me to come forward, I moved slowly as Cinna followed. When we approached the opening, I peered out, a gasp escaped my lips as I saw the thousands of people clapping and chattering.

I felt sick and I could have passed out easily if I wasn't concerned with not displeasing Haymitch. I turned to Cinna as I heard my name being announced; an array of cheers and hisses filled the auditorium.

"Tell Daria that I-"

He held out a hand to signal me to stop," You tell her after you come out of the arena."

I nod sadly; I can only assume the pain in my eyes," Alright."

Cinna holds out the lighter to my cloak, as I hear him say one last thing before the fabric sets a blazed," Good luck, boy on fire."

I square my shoulders as I leave the protection of the dark tunnel. I try to keep my eyes forward but I can see the intensely colorful crowd waving their arms and clapping. The raring of the crowd id deafening as my name is once again announced and I'm afraid of tripping over my feet as I carry the heavy flames engulfed cloak on my back.

My skin is becoming warmer and I pick up my pace to make it to the other archway, allowing me to discard the cloak. I can barely hear my moniker announced over the loud speaker.

"_Brenton Mellark, the Destroyer of Worlds!"_

The pathway is long and daunting as I will my legs to take me the last hundred yards. I can see citizens blowing kisses my way and calling my name as if they knew me. It's pretend to them, their own paper dolls to dress and play with until they become tired and bored, trading in the tattered doll for a new one. However for the rest of us, this is our reality, it's another string connecting to the knot of our daily struggles, and the Capitol is another hurdle when we have to overcome.

I give the crowd a sideways glance before I make it to the archway. My cloak is still on fire, and I reach for one of my throwing blades to cut the cord free. The fabric falls from my body, the gravity taking it to the ground until it falls around me like a ring of fire.

The flames extinguishes as soon as it hits the ground and a cloud of smoke surrounds me. I try not to cough as I hear the crowd cheer even louder, and I realizes I have unknowingly presented myself to all of them. I look back to the other archway where I can faintly see Cinna nodding.

I return a sharp nod before a Keeper leads me down the corridor to a door, I stop walking to question him, and he looks at me calmly.

"This will be where you wait until you are called to enter the arena. Another Keeper will be waiting on the other side to instruct you."

I don't wait to thank him as I push the door open, to present a small room filled with nothing but the concrete on the floor and the making of the walls. It's small and I hardly have room to turn around. I search the room, trying to get an understanding of my surroundings, as I notice it lying there against the wall with a full quiver.

I take in a breath as I take in how beautiful it is, I had assumed I would be using the one from training, but the red designs dancing over the black pearl is exquisite. I pick it up getting a feel for the weight, and it feels like an extension of my own body. I slip the quiver on as I set the bow down at my feet to reach into my pocket.

The pin is light against my palm but I can sense the power it possesses, and I have the fleeting thought of my grandfather being at my side. I unhook the clasp to secure it on the strap of my armor directly across from my heart.

I placed my palm against it when it's settled and breathe in deep. There's a knock at the door in front of me and the door pushes open to reveal a Keeper waving me on. I pick up my bow walking through the door as he motions for me to stop. He presses his pointer finger against his ear, as if he's getting feed through an ear piece.

He nods animatedly before he waves me on, walking in front of me. I follow him as I grip the bow tightly and try to compose myself. My bangs fall around my face, and I'm too distracted to move them away.

The Keeper stops at a massive wooden door and the architecture of the walls surrounding it make me wonder exactly how old it really is. He stands to the side as the doors open, motioning for me to step forward I'm standing at the center of the threshold as I take the arena in.

The circumference alone is more than the compound of the camp doubled, as the ground is covered with sand. I'm pushed from behind as I stumbled past the doors; I regain my footing as the close behind me.

I look up assuming I'll see the peculiar faces of the Capitol citizens from earlier but I'm met with only sky. I walk out to the center griping the bow tightly, as I put my guard up, I'm not accurate of where the attack will come from but I'm positive one will soon show itself. I can't help the reflux of arming my bow when a booming voice sounds through the arena.

"_Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the first elimination bout! Let the Vanquisher Games Begin!"_

My arms are raised as I take my stance, ready for anything. The arena is eerily quiet; I can feel the perspiration forming on my brow. My body darts to the side when I see about a dozen people on separate landing pads being risen up through the ground.

All of which have full armor on and like myself are armed. I recognize a few from the competitor quarters, and it's when I notice the one to my right, causing me to swallow hard. He was one of the careers who had joined Serkan in the meeting party, my first day at the farm.

I'm in the center of the arena, as I'm circled by all of them. I know I have no technical advantage and the only way for me to gain any upper hand is to get on the outside, so I can move easily. I have more than one spear pointed towards me, when I suddenly hear crying from the right.

I chance a glance towards the sound to see about a dozen codes pushed together in a cell of sorts. I remember what Carr had said about most codes being used as expendable deaths for the competitors and careers, when the front of the cell rises open and a rush of young men and women come running out, toppling over each other's body.

I can feel the panic rising through me but I try to keep calm as I call over my shoulder, my bow still raised for attack.

"NO! GET BACK BY THE CAGE!"

My words are too late as about half of the competitors have already made their way towards the codes as a flood of blood stains the arena floor, mixing in with the sand. The cries are unimaginable, as swords meet with flesh and bone. The other competitors are ripping their way through the crowd easily as the codes show no aspect of fighting back.

I foolishly turn towards the bloodbath to train my arrow at the throat of a career that has just decapitated a female code. I release the arrow, it flies through the air breaking through the sky and blood to lodge itself into his throat he drops his sword, as he lands on his knees, his body eventually drops into the pool of bodies and blood. I can now feel my adrenaline running through my veins and I send three more down the same way.

The codes who have survived the attack retreat to the far side, their bare feet stained with blood as the sand sticks to their feet. I don't allow myself to hesitate or to think as I dart behind the codes to follow. It's difficult to aim and run backwards than I would have imagined, but I'm able to take down another two competitors as they run towards us. Although I do miss a few times, before the competitors fall to the ground.

The codes have stopped near the far wall to catch their breath as I pull another arrow from my quiver. A burly man in armor comes barreling towards us, and my eyes sting from the sweat pouring into them. Everything is in slow motion as I see the other competitors have turned on each other.

I can hear only my own breathing and heart beat as everything becomes stalled in motion around me, as if I'm watching myself from the outside. My fingers holding the string back have already started to bleed, and I try to control my shaking.

I can hear some of the codes behind me yelling for me to release as he approaches, but I mentally shake my head, waiting for my time. I want him close enough for me to send a message, I need for the others to see the brutality, a warning to leave the children behind me be. I wait until I can see the color of his eyes until I let go, the arrow lodging into his eye as it sends him back with a blow.

I let the breath out I had been holding as his body hits the ground with a resounding thud. I reach back into my quiver, but my hand comes back empty. I start to reach for the blades at my waist, when the ground underneath me starts to shift.

I look around but on the far side the other competitors continue to kill each other unaffected by the tremors. I don't have enough time to turn around before the ground beneath the codes gives way, as half of them fall into a cavern of nothingness.

I drop my bow to the ground and leap forward landing on my stomach hard as my right arm extends out, my hand catching a young girl with dark hair by her forearm. She's shrieking as she kicks her legs and I yell at her to stop as the sweat of her body as well as my hand causes her to slip from grasp.

I look over as a young boy tries to get hold of the ground to lift himself up but his upper body strength is lacking. His nails scrap the sand before he finally plummets down. I'm struggling to pull the girl up, as she looks to my left screaming.

I glance over my shoulder to see a competitor with a sword rushing towards us. I begin to pull her up quickly, but I'm not quick enough before she slips through my fingers. I watch her scream as she falls and all of the air floods out of my body as the space between us becomes wide.

I don't have enough time to morn her before the competitor with the sword is almost upon me. I roll on my side to get away from the ledge; the sand sticks to the sweat of my body and embeds itself into the cuts and deep lacerations I have.

I make it to my feet before I have to jump back and miss from being slashed against the chest by the side of his sword. He advances on me and I side step to miss the sword, as I grab hold of the underside of his elbow, bringing it down to my knee, his arm instantly breaking. He calls out in pain as the sword drops, although his other arm makes a fist sending a couple of punches towards my face.

The pain is intense as I feel my nose crack, a barrage of blood flows into my mouth, and I spit the blood mixed with saliva and sweat into his eyes to get out from under him. His hands go to his eyes as I slip a knife from my waist, as my left hand goes to his shoulder for leverage as I sink the blade into his gut swiftly. He head butts me, my head snaps back but I have it in too deep for him to survive and he eventually falls to the ground.

I still have hold of the handle of the blade, as his body slips from it. I watch him lie there as he spits up his own blood, staring up at me until his breathing slows and his eyes go blank. I reach for my nose with my free hand, my shoulders slumped. I begin to fall to my knees as I see someone approaching me. I try to straighten my posture as I throw my bloody knife at their chest. They deflect it with their spear, as they barrel toward me.

A bronze helmet shows my own reflection as the career comes close to me, the spear is pointed at my throat, and I'm quick enough to reach for it as I try to wrestle it from their grip. I rear back kicking them in the gut as their hands leave the spear.

Their back lands on the ground, I'm posed to send the spear into their body when a long collection of blonde hair comes flowing out of the helmet. My eyes are wide and I hesitate giving her enough time to throw a blade I hadn't seen at me, it lodges into my leg and I call out in pain, causing me to drop the spear.

She starts to get up slowly, still dizzy from my kick, as I reach for my waist. I search for a blade but come up empty. I grit my teeth as I pull out the blade in my leg, a rush of blood comes flowing out and I can't help the shaking that starts to take over my body.

I flip the blade in my hand, before I send it towards her, causing it to plant itself into her thigh. She stumbles back, landing on her back once again. I wipe my mouth clean with the back of my hand, before leaning down to pick up the spear.

I walk over to her with a limp as she's struggles to take out the blade. Her eyes are wide as I stand over her the spear rising in the air above her. I can feel the tears starting well up in my eyes and I take a deep breath.

My voice is low and raw," I'm sorry."

And with all of my strength I send the spear down into her chest piercing her heart. I close my eyes as I grind the blade deep. I can feel my legs shake, as tears mix with the blood and sweat of my face. I take a few seconds before I open my eyes to look at her, as she lays still her arms spread out around her.

I let go as I stumble back almost landing on my back. I almost fall as a loud gong goes off, and what was the sky melds into a stadium full of Capitol citizens. The roar of the crowd is overwhelming and I try to block out the sound as I look around me. On each side is a massive screen showing a live feed as I stand on wobbly legs in the center of the arena.

I finally find the clear box as Elective Snow claps his hands slowly, and I search for Haymitch, but come up empty. The announcer comes over the speakers, as the sound vibrates through my body.

"_Ladies and Gentlemen this concludes round one! Please give applause for the competitor Brenton Mellark!"_

I shake my head as I limp towards the exit, I keep my eyes forward. I can hear the announcer fumble over his own words as I ignore his and the crowds attempts to get my attention. I try to not look at the carnage of the arena, but I find myself having to step over different parts of people.

When I make it to the archway I push the doors open, the Keeper standing posts looks at me with wide eyes.

"You're supposed to be congratulated by Elective Snow and there's a presentation to be made."

I shake my head," Not this time. Not with me."

I drag my leg down the corridor, making my way back to where I could find any type of medical care. I would be forced to kill for them but I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of enjoying it.

* * *

008E.

_**Daria**_

My body aches as I serve a right cross to the head of the practicing dummy. I know resting would be the reasonable thing to do right now, but I'm anxious and if I stop moving all I can think about is the charming, albeit self deprecating, boy with dark hair.

It infuriates me how he seems to get under my skin, and I feel lost when he's not around. I haven't seen him since I returned from the Capitol, although some part of me is thankful. I'm confused as to how to act around him after I imagined being so intimate with him.

He has a way about him, and even if I deny it to myself I feel a pull towards him. I shake my head trying to clear it as I send another punch to the dummy. We had been obligated to watch the battle on a screen in the yard; normally this wouldn't have concerned me.

I was used to seeing the death of the arena, but as I watched him try to save the younger codes, and when the one's hand had slipped from his, I could see the pain in his eyes. I had to look away more than once, as I sat on the cold stone wall.

Usually I would have been taking care of the younger girls, allowing them to cling to me, and telling them when they could open their eyes, but I wanted to be alone in case I couldn't control my emotions. And it was there as I sat on the stone wall, that I realized I truly did love him, and it wasn't just something I thought in my head like everything else I felt.

I sat my hands on the dummies shoulders as I forced my knees into his gut. I wanted to feel the adrenaline soon, because I hadn't stopped worrying about him after he walked out of the arena, limping and bloody.

I had snuck into the courtesan quarters to change into a pair of exercise clothing, black pants and a racer back tank top. I knew it was risky being in his training area, but I wanted somewhere I could hide out and being the hell out of a training dummy seemed as good a pass time as any.

The door suddenly opening caused me to jump, as I turned quickly. I was preparing to come face to face with a Keeper, but instead deep blue eyes found me. He was wearing his competitor uniform of black pants and shirt again with his dark hair brushed back.

He stood in the doorway for a few seconds watching me before he stepped through, still sustaining his limp.

I try to keep the anxiety out of my voice," I was assuming you would have looked worse than you do."

He manages a quick grin," Well it so happens the competitors have a capable medical staff," he glances down to his leg," Although my leg is still a bit stiff, they said it'll be fine by the next time I compete."

I nod, " Good."

He turned slight as he kept eye contact with me as he shut the door. I kept my place as I watched him walk to the center of the room, the space between us less. My breathing quickened and I could hear my heartbeat in my ear drums.

I could see him fidget slightly, as he started to open his mouth to speak before closing it, and then sighing heavily. His eyes were pleading with me, as he started to walk towards me, but before I could control myself I ran towards him, my dark hair flying behind me until my body collided with his, almost knocking him down, my hair flooding around my face.

Brenton tightened his arms around me, as I laid my head against his chest. I slowly snaked my arms up to his broad back, my fingers hooking the material of his shirt. The heat of his body made me dizzy, as he laid his own face against the top of my head.

I could hear him breathe in slowly, and I couldn't stop the smile spreading over my face. I hear his heart beat and I feel so close to him. He took in a deep breath before, moving his fingers to tangle in my hair.

"I missed you."

My smile widened," I was so worried about you."

He began to pull away from me, his fingers leaving my hair, and I fought the urge to pull him back. I righted my body as he did his. He pushed his hands into his pockets, as I crossed my arms, my nails digging into my sides.

"You didn't have to worry Daria. I made it through."

"What's bothering you?"

"When I was in there I wasn't sure I would be able to kill until it was already happening," he moved his hand up to his hair, running his fingers through," It was as if I was outside of myself, and all I felt was survival, it was almost primal like Haymitch described. And when I had to kill that girl, I wasn't scared during or concerned for her, I was glad it wasn't me," he looks at me dead on," And do you want to know why? Because all I could think of was getting back to you. I thought about how I never kissed you."

"Brenton-"

"It makes me selfish."

I take him by the face, forcing him to look down at me," I saw how you were with the codes, how you tried to save the little girl. You gave up a technical advantage, you made yourself vulnerable. You did that to save someone else, that doesn't make you selfish."

"What does it make me Daria?"

"It makes you honorable," his eyes are burning through me, as his bangs fall around his face," It also makes you dangerous."

"Why?"

"You show hope, and that's not something the Capitol…Snow can afford."

"But I'm not any of those things; I was just trying to survive."

I move my hands to the back of his neck as I lean forward on my toes. I can see the questions in his eyes, as I inch my face closer to his. Everything rational in me is screaming at me to stop, that I can't afford to be emotionally entangled to someone like him, but all I can understand right now is the overpowering need to feel his skin against mine.

Our lips meet barely, and at first each of us is hesitant until he leans into me increasing the pressure. I'm afraid to move as he slides his own hands onto my cheeks, his fingers tangling in my hair. I'm still frozen as he presses his tongue against my lips asking for entry until I part my lips.

Our tongues tangle into each other's fighting for dominance, as I lean into him more. A moan escapes my lips and I can feel him smile against my lips. It's gentle at first but the tension begins to take root and the kisses become feverish.

I pull away from him first; I don't want to go any further without him knowing what I am. He's breathing hard, and my own breathing is labored. Brenton leans his forehead against mine, as he closes his eyes.

"I've wanted to do that since I first met you. The only reason I survived this long is because of you," he smiles softly," I think I've waited for you my whole life."

I take in a deep breath," I know how you feel."

* * *

008F.

The tunnel is dark as Katniss makes her way to the door leading into operations. She was thankful when Peeta had assigned her, her own authorization code granting her access. He had been awkward after their kiss, like ducking his head or trying to engage her in small talk.

She couldn't help but smiling at him, which only increased his embarrassment. The tension between them had lessened but the issues were still as parent as they had been. There was a silence between them in the room after he had pulled back from their kiss.

Katniss tried to busy her idle hands as she cleaned up the medicinal supplies, while Peeta pretended to be occupied by a stack of maps. After Katniss had situated the items, she had walked over to Peeta. She could see him darting his eyes over to her, while his hands fumbled with the thin paper.

Katniss had laid her hand over his pulling his fingers to twine with hers, the maps falling to the floor. He was still at first; she could tell he was hesitant as she stepped inside his personal space, her face tilting up to his. Peeta was frozen in his place as Katniss placed her lips ever so softly to his in a chaste kiss.

With their fingers still intertwined, she pulled back from him staring into his blue eyes. They stood there for the longest time, neither one moving as they watched each other. Finally, Peeta had brought their conjoined hands to his chest as Katniss once again stepped into him.

Katniss lips began to quiver and she could feel the air between them become thick. She could feel the heat of his body through his shirt, and she began to feel dizzy. Although her mind was clear and she couldn't wait till his lips were on hers again.

All of a sudden the door to Peeta's quarters began to open, resulting in the both of them to pull from each other rapidly; their fingers lingered beside each other for as long as they could before they severed the tie. Finnick looked rushed until he took in the both of them, a small grin coming over his face as Peeta cleared his throat rubbing the back of his neck, while Katniss' eyes looked anywhere but at the two men.

Finnick scratched the side of his face, as he began to walk towards Peeta but not before giving Katniss a small smile.

"Uh, Peeta they're starting. The procession is almost over, which means the arena games will begin."

Peeta nodded slowly," Ok. Thank you, Finnick."

Finnick looked to Katniss who had turned her back towards him," No problem."

Finnick let himself out without a word, closing the door behind him. Peeta looked over to Katniss sadly, as he began to walk closer to her.

"Katniss-"

Katniss turned toward him quickly before he could reach her," You should go. I just can't watch."

Katniss enveloped her arms into her body as Peeta stepped near her, pulling her side into his chest. He leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

"It's going to be fine, he's strong. He has you for his mother."

This grabs her attention as she moves her body to face him, her hands going to the sides of his face. She smiled faintly as she shook her head.

"No, he gets his strength from you."

Katniss sighed bringing her back into the present as she punched in the stream of coding to grant her access to the room on the other side. The beeping sound was insistent as the door let out a rush of compressed air, as it opened slowly.

Katniss pushed it open the rest of the way before she let herself in. The room was even more jolted with activity than it had been before, and she looked up to the screens hesitantly. Thankfully all there was featured was the Capitol emblem, the golden leaves entrapping the full winged bird.

Katniss couldn't helped by scoff at the symbolism of the majestic creature bounded by bines of someone else. She could hear Peeta's voice and she rushed over to him, pushing her way through a couple of people. He saw her before she approached him, answering the question she was attempting to ask.

Peeta let out a deep breath," He made it through."

Katniss body collided with his as he gathered her in a hug. She snaked her arms under his to lay her palms flat against his back while his fingers tangled in her hair. He breathed her in and he could feel her body begin to wrack with sobs. Peeta pulled back holding her face in his hands, his lips barely forming a smile.

"He's strong. He just came away with a few injuries."

Anxiety took her over and Peeta could see her panic," How bad is it?"

"Just a broken nose and a knife wound to the thigh. He's going to be fine. They'll want him healthy for the next time."

Katniss pulled away from him as she covered her face with her own hand. Peeta looked up to see Finnick motioning to the screen where they had been conversating at the center of the room. Peeta gives him a sharp nod as he places his palm against the small of Katniss' back leading her toward where Finnick waits. Katniss stops at the screen table in front of her, as she sees Finnick watching her.

"I'm glad he's alright."

She nods," Thank you."

He exchanges a look with Peeta quickly before motioning his hand over the screen.

"I've looked over these blue prints about a thousand times. It appears when Snow made a fortress he wasn't sparse with the details," Finnick waves his hand to the right causing another set of blue prints to appear," He completely had everything redesigned after you helped almost the entire code population escape," he waved his hand over the maps," There's just no way out."

Peeta nodded," That's alright," Finnick raised a brow as Katniss tilted her head just as confused," We don't need to worry about anyone getting out," Peeta leans over sliding his hand over the screen," We need to get in."

Finnick sighs," That's all well and good, Peeta. But we need to have an exit strategy."

"I agree. Then it's good we have the one person who actually escaped from the farm solely by herself."

Peeta turns to his side to look to Katniss who is at a loss for words as Finnick can't hide his own shock. Katniss' mouth hangs open as Peeta gives her a nod of encouragement, she shakes her head negately.

"Peeta no."

"You're the only who's ever succeeded."

"It took me a year of planning. I was on competitor quarters maid duty for six months before I even made my first move. I memorized every Keeper formation, the times they left their posts; everything was down to the wire. And when I finally made it to the tunnels around the arena, I waited three days underground in the sewage system, before I attempted to make it off the grounds," Katniss turned to Peeta frantically," Brenton doesn't have that much time."

Peeta laid his hands on her shoulders trying to calm her," Katniss I'll get us out, you just have to get us in."

Katniss motions to the screen," Peeta everything I could describe to you has gotten a face lift. It's entirely remodeled. Snow knew what he was doing. He's crazy not stupid."

Finnick leaned over the screen, looking to Peeta," She has a point Peeta."

Peeta looked down to Katniss, his eyes sure," You can do this. I know you can."

Katniss sighed nodding," How are going to get in?"

Finnick rounded the table screen to stand on the other side of Peeta," All the entry points are coded. And they're changed every two hours, so even if we were able to get our hands on a sequence it would be useless."

"That's why we go to the source."

Finnick shakes his head as he holds up his hand," Wait. Peeta the only people with the coding boxes are council members and Snow. What do you want to do? Just go up to them and say _" hey, can I borrow this because I want to use it to break my son out as well as all the young victims you use for your own pleasure and entertainment on a daily basis?" _Huh?"

Peeta shrugged," Well maybe not like that."

Finnick threw his hands up as Katniss sighed," Then how?"

Peeta looks to Katniss as he tilts his head to the side," We need to get up close and personal."

Finnick rubbed his face harshly," And who would be doing this?"

Peeta turns to Finnick," It won't be your daughter…I promise. Besides I don't want to blow Cinna's cover," Peeta turned back towards Katniss," I'm going to go."

Peeta could hear Finnick object behind him,"No way! Capitol citizens know your face better than they know their own."

"He's right Peeta. It can't be you."

"Then who then?"

Katniss breathed in deeply," I'll do it."

Peeta's eyes widened," No! It's not going to happen!"

"Excuse me?"

"No, Katniss."

"She's right Peeta; a woman would have an easier time getting close to one of them."

Peeta kept his eyes on the screen," Then we'll send someone else."

Katniss leaned into him to look into his face," Who? Everyone here is probably on a watch list. I haven't been seen in the Capitol in nearly two decades. I can do this."

"Then I'm going with you. Someone needs to have your back.

Finnick walked around Peeta to stand behind Katniss," I'll have her back. I've kept you alive all these years. I think if I can keep your stubborn neck out of a noose than the lady here is no problem. Plus, I know how to navigate around the Capitol. I know how they think, it tends to happen when they use you as a throw away napkin for years."

"I don't want you to be in harm's way."

"Peeta, I care about you and I appreciate your concern, but it's not really your decision."

Peeta turned to face her," Alright. We start in a few hours."

Finnick leaned over her placing his hands on her shoulders," Do you know how to be seductive?"

Katniss pushed his hands off dismissively," Don't insult me."

Finnick walked to the other side of the room to prepare for their assent into the Capitol, as both Peeta and Katniss stood watching each other. She wanted to reach out to him, but she knew how much he was hurting at the moment and she knew she had something to do with it.

Peeta cleared his throat;" Do you still know how to use a blade?"

Katniss nodded," Like a pro."

* * *

008G.

_**Brenton**_

I lean into the velvet material lining the seats of the train, every car is heavily decorated much like the corridors within the compound that connect to an officials office. I run my hands over the front of my suit jacket, wrinkles are already forming.

My suit is completely black except for the red lining the ends of the jacket. I was thankful Cinna decided to dress me in something simple and tasteful; I wanted to look the furthest from a Capitol citizen as possible. I had first objected when the prep team had stormed into the training area informing me I was expected to attend a gathering in the Capitol.

I was stubborn in my decision even more so when Flavius voiced Elective Snows wanting to see me immediately. I was glad Daria had left before they had burst in; she was flushed and anxious after we had kissed and I could tell she wanted to tell me something, but for whatever reason she was unable. I simply leaned over planting a soft kiss on the top of her head.

Her hands had lingered at my chest before she pushed from me to walk to the exit. I had expressed my interest in seeing her again before she left; Daria gave me a faint smile before nodding. I leaned my body forward, trying to keep sight of her for as long as I could.

It felt impossible to think of anything but Daria as I was escorted to Snow's office. The doors were closed as usual, and I waited for one of the Keepers to push it open. I was abruptly assaulted by the sickly sweet aroma of Snow's office, but I was steadier on my feet than before, causing my nausea to ebb.

He was sat behind his desk, as he pushed the chair back allowing him to straighten his posture. I stepped over the threshold, the doors closing behind me. I scanned the room for any other occupants but I was surprised being left alone with him. I kept my back straight as I looked him dead on.

"Do you think it wise to be left alone with a competitor?"

Snow sat forward in his chair as he began to laugh; his feet found the ground as he proceeded to stand," If you were to kill me, you wouldn't leave the grounds alive."

"I may be misinformed Elective but isn't it a punishable act to threaten your well being?"

He continued to become amused which only infuriated me more," For anyone else, yes. But you're an exception aren't you Mr. Mellark? You're unlike any competitor we've ever had, and not only based on your lineage. I have never seen such commotion from the Capitol before when regarding someone from the arena. You and I could do great things."

I had to shake my head," Are you trying to enlist me?"

Snow rounded the desk to stand directly in front of me," You could be powerful, anything you ever wanted. Privilege, money, women, anything you would desire-"

"As long as I stayed on my leash? I'm not foolish, I know you're the one pulling all the strings, and I don't want to play."

I can see Snow tense up, as he folds his arms over his chest," You're the fool, boy. You think you have any say in your actions?"

I lean forward narrowing my eyes," I've said no to you more than once haven't I?"

"You're to attend a social gathering tonight in the Capitol."

"I not in the partying mood."

"Find it or I'm sure Thread would be more than happy to find another female to shoot for his own liking."

I swallow hard," Fine."

Snow leans forward this time," You didn't say no."

I felt as if he had punched me in my midsection with his remark, as I turned to vacate his office. The halls were dark and void as I made my way back to the training area to be prepared for the Capitol engagement. The entire process was a blur, as my mind wandered.

Snow was becoming even more erratic, and I couldn't stop thinking of Daria, or how I was going to react to the narcissism of the Capitol.

The side door opening of the car gains my attention as Haymitch walks through, sliding it back behind him. He gives me a weak smile as he sits down next to me, his silver flask in his hand.

"You did good kid."

"So well I'm having to attend a party with people I openly detest, and a place that should for all purposes be burnt to the ground."

"Don't hold bad kid, let everyone know how you feel," he takes a swig of liquor as I glare at his sarcasm," Brenton you're going to have to act a certain way around some Capitol people. I'm not telling you to become what they are, but holding your tongue would be beneficial."

"You are aware of how hypocritical you sound right now."

"You're young kid, so right off you think you have everything figured out," Haymitch places a hand on my shoulder," Believe me, you don't know shit."

The rest of the train ride was made in silence, as I stared out the window watching country side form into great structures. I can hear the snoring coming from my side clearly and I assume Haymitch feel asleep when the train abruptly stops. I turn to my side to push him awake or give him a light slap to the face when he jumps up stretching his arms over his head as he yawns. I look to him a bit terrified by how quickly he woke, while he places his hands on his hips.

"Do you remember what I told you?"

"I don't know shit?"

Haymitch let out a hearty laugh," Yes, but I was referring to the other one."

I nod slowly," Ah, yes. To behave myself."

Haymitch snaps his fingers before pointing to me," That's the one!"

Shortly after a Keeper comes to the clear sliding glass to accompany us to the establishment of where the party will be held. When we exit the train I can't help but gawk at the structures around us, everything is alight with color and motion.

Massive screens, I'm later told by Haymitch they're called jumbtrons, are spread all through the complex we walk through, and as we walk pass one I spot a picture of Peeta, his name written in dark red bold letters. I try to linger below the screen but I'm ushered forward to the doors of a tall glass building.

When we enter everything is clean and simple, the opposite of the districts, without any real character or depth, but I suppose this is what the Capitol really is…flash without substance.

I can hear the commotion of the party before we ascend up the stairs. My hand grips the glass railing and I can feel Haymitch's hand on my shoulder. I glance to him as he walks behind me, as he gives me a reassuring nod, I slowly return the sentiment.

We aren't to the top of the landing before I'm bombarded by a slew of Capitol citizens; they're all talking at once, while their drinks slosh out above the rims of their glasses.

Haymitch walks around me as he stands behind the crowd, giving an assured look to me before he disappears into the crowd of people. I grit my teeth, as my jaw muscles flex, my irritation towards him leaving me around these people is not wavering.

But I assume this is much like the arena and I have to present a show to the ones watching. I sigh before smiling and pretend to be listening to what everyone is saying to me. Hands are touching my chest and arms, while they talk of how brave and handsome I am, even if my father is a known criminal, and how trying it must be for me to overcome such adversity, seeing how I'm district born, although it is troubling and sad how the only true Capitol born in my lineage was a traitor.

I want to spit back the atrocities of their statements but I merely nod silently. A woman washed entirely in blue is feeling my muscles underneath my suit jacket, when a man with peculiar facial hair grabs me by the arm. He pulls me through the crowd of upset citizens, waiting to talk to me after we're free from the others.

"It is so pleasant to have the Boy on Fire, to my gathering. I am Seneca Crane, I'm on the council."

I debate on pulling away from him until I raise an eyebrow in confusion," Boy on Fire?"

He nods," Yes that's what much of the Capitol is calling you," He waves his hand in the air to have the crowd part, allowing us to walk through," I throw this party after each bout, for the worthy competitors, interesting enough you're the first guest of honor to not be a career. I usually never bother with the district born contenders," I have to grit my teeth from speaking as he carries on," There's anything you wish to have here, refreshment, food, and even the company of a woman."

I try to hide the disgust from my face at his last statement as he leads me deeper into the room. Smoke lingers in the air and the heat from the crowded bodies is causing everyone to perspire. Most of the attendees are already intoxicated, and most are already participating in sexual acts at the edge of the crowd.

I try to avert my eyes, but I spot the courtesans quickly outside of the crowds as men and woman attack their bodies like animals. I see a flash of blonde hair, and I push the bile down my throat, the little girl from the hall comes into my mind, and I have to will myself not push through the crowds and beat the life out of the man who has his body against hers. I feel small and useless as the man with the beard leads me up a flight of stairs.

He lets go of my arm when we're halfway up, I'm thankful to have him away from me. I stop a few steps up when he starts to descend. He notices my confusion; a small crooked smile curls at his lips.

"I sensed you're a bit tense. I arranged for you to have comfort and a way to relieve any stress before you join us again."

I shake my head," I-"

His voice is hard as he points past me," Go."

I watch him disappear into the crowd, debating if I should sneak out a back entrance, but I don't want the girl beyond the stairs to be punished for my insubordination. I take in a deep breath as I take the remaining stairs by two at a time.

I make it to the top, where the bed room is, as my eyes land on a young woman standing at a window. Her back is to me, but I can't miss the flood of dark wavy hair at her back. The dress is made of what appears to be chain links which hides nothing as it dips down her back to stop just above her bottom, and it's not until she moves, that it's clear to me who she is.

I feel sick, I shut my eyes hoping for it to be a nightmare, but when I open them again she's still standing there.

My voice is raw and hoarse as I speak," Daria?"

She whirls around, to look at me and I have to advert my eyes when the cleavage of the dress slips from her chest, revealing her breasts. She moves the dress back in place, her eyes wide.

"Is this in my head again?"

I shake my head confused," No."

Her hand flies to her coral colored lips,"Oh no!"

I take her in fully for the first time seeing her this way. Her hair has been fashioned in slick waves as it surrounds her shoulders. She has minimal makeup on but her eyes are lined in silver and her lips are bright coral. She looks nothing like the girl I knew back at the camp, no longer is there strength, and I feel outraged.

"Are you a courtesan?"

She begins to walk toward me, her eyes are bright and I can see her beginning to cry, " Brenton-"

I walk away from the top of the steps toward her," Are you?"

She stops in front of me, her mouth opens to speak, and I can see how terrified she is, but I'm consumed with my own anger," Yes."

I run my hands through my hair, gripping at the ends before, looking to her," So everything with me was a just a lie? Something Snow put you up to, to distract me and punish me?"

"No! I would never do that! What happened between us was real, I meant everything."

"Coming from a known liar and actress? Isn't that what being a courtesan is? Playing your part?"

I hear the strike before I feel it, the connection of her hand against my cheek sends my head to the side. Her face is up against mine when I finally turn forward again. Her eyes are manic and angry, as the tears run down her face.

"..Me! You're so narrow minded."

I grit my teeth, before speaking," You're right I don't know you at all."

I don't wait for her to respond before I descend the stairs, and slip out around the crowd to find a back exit. I finally find one going toward the south end; I walk out of the building and back toward the train to wait for our ride back to the camp. I know I could escape now and find my way back home, but the only thing I feel now is heart break, and all I feel like doing now is dying.

* * *

008H.

_**Daria**_

I push against the door leading into Cinna's quarters, it opens slowly and I slip my body through the slim separation. The door closes behind me, after I give it a slight elbow from behind. I try not to wrinkle the dress in my hands, I suppose if you could call it such a thing.

Cinna had been upset when he fitted me for it, supposedly the order to dress all of the courtesan's in nothing but chainmail had come straight from Snow himself. Even after all the years having complete strangers see me naked, I was still embarrassed for others to see me so exposed.

I do however wonder if my feelings towards the clothing has anything to do with a certain boy with blue eyes and dark hair. I shake my head clear, as the tears begin again. I walk over to the far wall where Cinna keeps most of his creations and lay the gown down on top of a pile of garment bags.

My hands go to my face as the tears begin to fall down my cheeks, I use my left hand to wipe my eyes as I knock myself in the forehead with the heel of my right. I suppose I brought the pain on myself, I knew better than to feel something for another person.

I shouldn't have let Brenton in and I deserve the pain I'm feeling now. I wipe my eyes again, before I glance over to Cinna's drawing board where he keeps his sketches. I breathe in deep, before making my way over, where the sketches are spread out.

The sketches are undeniably of Brenton, and I curse softly, coming to the realization I may never be able to escape him. I reach out and trace the edges of pencil and marker with my fingers. I let out a hollow laugh to myself, knowing I would eventually fall for someone who would never love me back.

I slip my hand underneath a stack of sketches, picking them up. I flip through the different profile and advantages Cinna had drawn of him, as a few from the middle fall out. I let out a huff of air as I place the remaining papers on the desk to bend down and retrieve the others.

I fall to my knees, my body weak and empty, and proceed to collect the sketches. My eyes linger over each one before I extend my arm to place them back to their place. I scan the area for any others when I spot one underneath the desk. I sigh before ducking underneath, my fingers curling over the edges.

I'm about to back out when I notice a taped envelope above me at the bottom of the desk. I stare at it for a few seconds before laying the sketch down to pull the envelope free. I come free from the desk landing on my knees; I look around me before opening the envelope. I peer inside to what only appears to be papers, I assume they're more sketches; Cinna is a designer and stylist after all.

My curiosity gets the best of me, as I reach in and pull out the contents. I place them on the ground in front of me, and move each paper to the side to examine the next.

They aren't sketches or anything relating to designing clothing. Each page lists a council member, a time and a sequence of numbers. I assume it's a code before I begin to recognize the names as well as the dates. Every _encounter _I've had with a council member or high ranking Capitol citizen is looking back at me.

I feel sick and I clutch my stomach, he's been documenting everything for what seems to be years. But it's not until I examine each line that I begin to connect another set of numbers which I recognize as longitude and latitude. I recognize one coordinate to be of a supply base for the Capitol, that I know had been rated by a resistance party at the date listed.

Unlike most courtesans I keep my ears open for anything resistance related and when Capitol citizens become intoxicated, or even more so when they take advantage of you sexually, some feel obligated to divulge some information. Everything begins to become clear to me, and it almost feels surreal. The opening of the doors startles me, and I scramble to pick the papers up.

I look to my right to see Cinna staring at me blankly. He then begins to rush towards me; I jump up backing away from the papers. I'm ready for an assault when he bypasses me to pick the papers up from the floor.

He doesn't look at me, as he organizes the papers accordingly. He keeps his eyes from me as I back away again. I watch him closely before I begin to ask the obvious.

"You're a spy aren't you?"

He turns to me quickly, before he points up. Cinna reaches over to the back of his desk to push a button which gives a high pitch wail before he stands up looking to me.

"I had to make sure no one would hear us."

"Why would it matter?"

"Because some of us can't risk some people knowing certain things about us."

"So what you activated something making it impossible for anyone to hear or watch? Where do you get something like that?"

He smiled softly," A friend."

"Would this friend be the one you spy for?"

He reaches for me, "Daria-"

I back up from his grasp," All those dates are the ones when I was in the Capitol. What so you spied and gathered information while I was being raped and beaten?"

"I never wanted to put you in harm's way-"

I shake my head, as the tears flood out of my eyes," No,I get it. I was a means to an end, I was an available distraction."

"Daria no one can know about me."

"I won't tell anyone Cinna. I wouldn't have anything to gain from it."

He looks to be in deep thought before he speaks," Your father is coming for you."

My confusion is easy to see," What?"

"He's been working with the resistance for years. None of us really connected the two of you until recently. Snow had been so paranoid after Brenton arrived, he had all of the codes DNA sequencing put back through the readers," Cinna steps toward me," He's coming for you. Everyone is going to be get out soon."

"This is all to save Brenton isn't it?"

He tilts his head," I would of all people you would want him safe."

"I do, but he's not as concerned with me anymore," I can see the question in his eyes," He found out what I am tonight."

"Daria-"

I back up from him with my hands held up as I move toward the exit,"Tell my father not to bother coming for his daughter. You tell him I'm already gone."

I can hear Cinna trying to speak to me, as I close the doors behind me. I lean my head back against the closed doors before I walk back towards the barracks. Every step I take makes me feel farther away from who I had once been.

* * *

**Review!**


	9. Chapter 9

****Rated Adult for Violence,Language and Character Death.

**009A**

The stack of files hit the wooden desk with a thud, almost causing the vase sitting perpendicular to tip over. Soft white buds of roses shook for a few seconds as the water at the bottom settled. Snow looked up from the top of his glasses to peer up at the younger man standing at the front of his desk. Thread nodded towards the tan folders.

"The files you requested sir."

Snow gave a sharp nod as he slipped his hands under the stacks, his thumb pushing the cover back to look inside. He flipped through the papers scribed with black ink, which also held faded photos of the files representatives. Thread kept his back straight as his arms were held behind his back, his fingers wrapping around his wrists. He watched as the older man read through the papers, at times he would skip through a stack to observe the next.

Snow's voice was indifferent but slightly tense," Anything interesting?"

"I transferred all the files to your handheld, sir," Snow reached for the clear plastic beside him, his fingers tapping quickly," I ran DNA sequencing of all codes we have in the camps, and one especially perked my interest."

Snow rose a brow," Hmm?"

"It should be at the front," Thread leaned forward as Snow moved his hand over the screen," She's his child, sir."

Snow's hand stopped in midair," How did this get past us?"

"It may have been we weren't looking for it at the time or there's someone on the inside."

"If there is a spy I want them punished and incinerated."

Thread nodded," It's being dealt with sir."

"Tell me I am not alone in thinking how curious it is for us to have the children of two high ranking resistance leaders in our camp at the same time."

"It's more than curious sir. The girl and the Mellark boy have been seen together more than once. She's also the one from the yard."

Snow leans back, the screen still at hand," The girl who almost shot?"

"Yes. She's what ultimately convinced him to compete."

"Do you think there's more to them than acquaintances?"

Thread nodded," There may be. Another interesting piece of information is that we use her as a courtesan. That may refresh your memory on the girl."

Snow lips began to curl," No, it can't be. I thought we killed her."

Thread shrugged," I thought she would have been more useful in a submissive capacity. She's quite fetching, and I saw it as almost poetic seeing how her father paid his tribute to the Capitol."

Snow tried to stifle his laugh but failed," Yes, it was quite clever of you, Lucious," Snow ran his hand over his jaw," Am I wrong in remembering you having a sorted affair with a courtesan when you were a younger man?"

This took Thread by surprise before he composed himself," No, sir you are not. The thrill of youth I suppose."

Snow laid down the screen as he pinched the side of his glasses, sliding them off slowly," Oh I believe it was more than that, Lucious. You were involved with her until she married a council member, and had three children with him. Then years later you killed her spouse and two of her sons, while the other gives me a daily headache."

"If I'm permitted to do so sir, may I ask why this is relevant?"

"The relevance is, how indebted do you feel towards this woman? The boy would have been her grandson."

"I have none sir. She was merely a means to an end. She was easy to manipulate and I kept her around for as long as I saw her as valuable."

Snow stood up from his desk, clapping his hands together," Good."

Thread cleared his throat," There is the matter of the boy and his familiarity to the girl, sir."

Snow nodded, as he let his fingers linger over the petals of a rose," Keep a close watch on both of them, and let me know if anything arises."

"Already on it, sir."

* * *

009B.

The glass was slick from the rain fall, making her wish for bricks instead; at least she could find her footing. Her fingers dung into the edges as she pulled herself up the twenty feet she needed to reach the window.

She sighed as her biceps began to burn; this was so much easier to do when she was ten years younger. Her forehead lays against the glass before she pulled her body the last few inches to the ledge of the window. She was thankful it was dark, to hide her from spectators.

It also helped most of the debauchery done in the Capitol was done so behind heavy curtains, or it would have been pointless to scale the glass formed building. Her braid hung to the side as she slid her body in between the ledge and the top of the window opening.

She reached into the pouch attached to her arm, bringing out the small device Beetee had designed for Peeta to override the Capitol code boxes. The tiny gadget clicked into place making a stream of beeping sounds before turning off.

Katniss looked up praying to the spirits before sliding her fingers underneath the window, sliding it up. The smell of perfume hit her before her body was fully inside. She fought back the urge to vomit as she ever so gracefully stepped down onto the silk couch, her other leg following suit.

Katniss caught her reflection in a mirror opposite of her, the black of her long sleeve shirt and pants looked out of place in the bright pink shades of the ladies powder room.

Water seemed to run all over the room with glass blocking its path to the room, Katniss had to roll her eyes at the Capitol's idea of decorating. The door opening alerted her to move the opposite wall, as she peered around to see who had entered.

A woman with bright purple hair walked in, Katniss observed her dress closely. It was deep red with straps of material hiding the center of the breasts, but still allowing a good amount of skin to be found. It was skin tight with the bottom of the skirt stopping just at mid thigh. Katniss groaned to herself, the heels weren't any better with three inch heels, covered in black leather as lace covered the top of the foot.

This was one of the times Katniss wished the women of the Capitol just liked to wear sensible pants. She leaned back further as the woman stepped into the powder room further, her hand bag hanging from her two fingers. Katniss waited until she was inches in front of her, before giving a small whistle to get her attention.

The woman's eyes became wide as Katniss wrapped her arms around her neck, increasing the pressure. Hot pink painted nails went to Katniss' arms before falling to the side. Katniss let the woman's body down gently, before kneeling down beside her.

She reached into the pouch to take out a syringe of a medication; she placed her teeth to the cap pulling it off, before plunging the needle into the woman's bare thigh. Katniss pushed the plunger down, allowing the liquid to fill her bloodstream. She needed the woman to sleep for a long time, not being able to afford for her to wake up.

Katniss spit the top out of mouth, placing the top back onto the syringe and putting it back into her pouch. She placed her hands on her hips as she sighed looking down to the woman.

"Sorry, but I need a dress."

Katniss began to unfasten the woman from the dress when movement behind her, made her turn around her hand going for the blade she kept in her braid.

Peeta held his hands up," Don't throw it."

Katniss let out a breath, her eyes narrowing," What are you doing here?"

"Watching your back," Peeta pointed to the woman on the floor as Katniss turned around returning to disrobing the woman," You know that whole choke out thing was pretty hot."

Katniss looked over her shoulder," You're very troubled."

Peeta walked over crouching next to Katniss," That's why you like me."

Katniss tried to fight back a smile as she pulled the last of the dress from the woman's body. Peeta stared at Katniss until he glanced down at the naked body in front of him.

He jumped back quickly," Woah! Not something I wanted to see."

Katniss shook her head, as she pulled the shoes free," What did you think it would be like after I took her clothing?"

Peeta turned his back to her," Maybe a little less purple. Is it true they dye their whole body," Peeta turned his head slowly around whipping it back abruptly," Apparently so."

Katniss rolled her eyes as she laid the clothing in a pile to grab the naked woman by the shoulders," Peeta get her feet, we need to move her before anyone comes through."

Peeta turned around but he was sure to keep his eyes to the side as he bent down blindly, grabbing the woman by her ankles. The both of them lifted her body easily, as Peeta backed up toward one of the stalls. Katniss couldn't help but snicker, as he became red.

"I know you're not turning red because she's naked."

Peeta kept his head to the side," I've only ever seen one woman naked. What you think I just go out and banged a bunch of woman?"

"I think it's cute you're nervous around a naked girl."

"Well good. Can you please stop flirting with me so I can put her in here?"

Peeta backed into the stall, as he rotated himself enough for Katniss to enter. They set the woman down gently before backing out, the door closing behind them. Katniss began to lift her shirt over head before she turned back towards Peeta who was watching her.

"What are you doing?"

Peeta held his hands up," Nothing."

Katniss moved her finger in a circle," Turn around."

"Katniss, I have seen it before."

"Yes, but not for a very long time."

"Katniss in that dress everyone will see it."

Katniss narrowed her eyes as she walked towards Peeta turning him around, he couldn't help the laugh escaping his lips as she stormed back to the center of the room to undress. Katniss quickly removed her own clothing and went to work trying to understand the mechanics of the dress.

She slipped it up her body, before fastening the material over her chest. She looked up quickly when she remembered the mirror from before.

"Peeta are you watching me in the mirror?"

"No," he snorted quietly before nodding," Yes."

Katniss smoothed the dress down before slipping the heels over her feet. She took the blade out of her hair placing it with her clothing; unfortunately the dress was far too tight for her to hide anything with in it. She unbraided her hair tossing it back as she combed her fingers through.

Dark curls flooded down below her shoulders, as she knelt down opening the woman's handbag. Katniss pulled out the makeup as she applied eyeliner and raisin colored lipstick. When she was ready she stood up holding the bag to her side as she cleared her throat, signaling for Peeta to turn around. He turned around slowly, his eyes widened as he took her in.

She looked incredibly gorgeous, as the dress clung to her curves. Her olive skin complimented the color of the fabric and Peeta gulped quickly.

He shrugged his shoulders as he walked past her," It'll do."

Katniss shook her head," Thanks for that."

"What you want me to say I want to make another baby with you?"

"Eww."

Peeta laughed as he opened the door slowly, the sounds of the party filtered through. Katniss looked down to her arm, as Peeta scanned the crowd.

"What about my barcode?"

Peeta looked to her arm," Don't worry, it's not unusual to see former codes prostituting."

Katniss held back the urge to strike him, as she pushed him out of the way," I think I'm ready."

"Ok, Finnick will be moving around the room. He's your back up; just remember to get the council member somewhere secluded. It shouldn't be hard with that dress. Grab the code from the box and slip out the back. I'll be waiting with your clothing. Unless you want to keep the dress?"

Katniss looked at him with a pointed glare," No thanks, I can barely breathe."

"I don't think breathing is a priority with a dress like that."

"Peeta-"

"Ok," Peeta placed his hands on the side of her face," Be careful."

She nodded mutely before walking out of the powder room. The door closed behind her, as she walked into the foyer further. Katniss breathed out slowly, before she walked further into the main lobby. She tried not to seem affected by the behavior or appearances around her.

She kept her shoulders back and made a point to exaggerate her chest. She wasn't an expert when it came to men but she knew most were compliant when met with a pair of breasts. Katniss scanned the crowd, as she kept an eye out for Finnick.

He would most likely be on the outside of the crowd, ensuring him a visible advantage. It took her a few seconds to spot him at the back; she had to applaud his ability to blend in. She assumed it was one of the many reasons Peeta had kept him around all these years.

Katniss made her way around the crowd of which most were already highly intoxicated, she caught a few looks her way, from both sexes, but she kept her eyes forward as she willed herself to make it to the far wall without tripping over her own feet.

Finnick had seen her coming, he positioned his body against the wall, but faced the opposite end, Katniss followed suit.

She ran her fingers through her hair, as she tried to seem nonchalant," Peeta's here."

Finnick ran his fingers over the lapel of his dark suit," Yes, I know. Most the time he at least considers my opinion before he disregards it and does his own thing. But when it comes to you, he doesn't even try to placate me."

"Yes, well it's very complicated with Peeta and me."

"I don't doubt it," Finnick rubbed his knuckles over his jaw bone," Alright you need to make sure to get him somewhere quiet, that way it's easier for you to copy his coding box. Steal something like his jewelry, this way it'll be more than a couple of days before he realizes what happened, he'll just think you nicked his watch."

Katniss nodded slowly," Ok, so I need to convince him to follow a complete stranger into a dark room?"

Finnick looked over his shoulder," Use the dress, make it work for you."

"Alright."

"I'm here if you need me, otherwise I'll meet you out front in twenty minutes."

Katniss nodded as she propped up her breasts, before circling around the wall to make her way over to the bar. It wasn't difficult to notice a council member, they were usually the ones surrounded by Keepers.

She could feel her heart beat faster, but she took in a slow breath before placing her hands on the bar. She glanced to the council member to her right, he was a foot shorter than average and his bald head was reflecting the light.

She whipped her hair to the side as she bit the bottom half of her lip, while looking over to him with wide eyes. He balanced his glass in his hands as he noticed her, his eyes starting at her ankles to travel up to her lips. Katniss jutted her tongue out quickly licking her lips, before bringing her right hand up to her bottom lip, to trace her pointer finger there.

She tried to seem indifferent when in reality she felt like vomiting. She had only been comfortable having one man watch her so closely and it wasn't a short balding man. Katniss smiled as she leaned back, making her chest show clearly. Her dark hair fell down her back, as she used her left calf to push her skirt up her right leg further.

She batted her eyelashes at him before speaking," Hi."

The bald man leered at her suggestively," Hello," he looked around her," Are you alone?"

She shrugged," I was," she began to swing her right leg," but I'm not anymore. Am I?"

He shook his head," No, you're not."

She turned her seat to the side, as she leaned over, her fingers reaching out to his hand as he set his glass down.

"Why don't we go and not be alone together."

The man nodded before stepping down from the stool, Katniss waited for him to take her hand before stepping down herself. He began to lead her to the far side of the room, where curtains were used as partitions. He stopped them mid way, as he turned to the Keepers waving them off.

Katniss held in a sigh of relief, she knew she could handle to idiot beside her, but Keepers were another issue, especially if she was unarmed. They walked through the curtains, to a small room with a single velvet couch.

The man pulled the curtains together, while Katniss sat on the couch. He walked over to her slowly before sitting down beside her, patting his lap. She giggled, before swinging her leg over his own. She slides her hands behind his neck as he roamed her bare legs.

He opened his mouth to speak and she almost vomited from the smell of alcohol," Tell me what does a woman like you want with a man of my standing."

She threw her head back, before leaning toward him, their lips inches apart," Well you have to have something I want," he closed his eyes as she back up," and believe me it's not between your legs."

His eyes flew open as she pinched the nerves at his neck, causing him to pass out instantly. Katniss sighed as she crawled off of his lap, and reached into the band of her panties pulling out the encoder device.

She reached into his pocket, as he leaned back snoring. She rolled her eyes as she placed his coding box to her device. The lights flashed quickly before the box released, signifying the process was finished. She slipped it back under the dress, before taking his ring encrusted with precious jewels.

She leaned over giving him a light slap to the face.

"Thanks, sweetie. It was good for me too."

Footsteps outside alerted her to the Keepers presence, she ran through the back curtain as she came to a concrete wall. She followed it out near the exit, where more Keepers were waiting, before they were notified to rush inside the building.

She assumed they had found her handy work, Katniss knew she had to get out of the building before it was locked down. She hung to the wall, as a group of Keepers ran past. She took a deep breath before rounding the corner in a sprint; she looked behind her as she ran.

She wasn't ready for the brunt force she felt, almost knocking her over. A pair of hands latched onto her and she tried to raise her hands to break free, when Peeta's blue eyes met hers.

"You ok?"

She breathed relief as small smile appeared on her lips," Yes," she rose her brow," I thought you were meeting us at the rendezvous?"

Peeta looked her up and down," And miss you in that dress? Never."

Katniss let out a short laugh before Peeta dragged her behind him as they finally exited out the building using the service quarters. She held onto him, until they were safely out of the city. Her feet were beginning to swell, and the latch from the dress was digging into her skin. She pulled the top up, before her breasts spilled out.

"Why did you come Peeta? It was too dangerous."

He stopped walking and turned toward her," I couldn't let you go in there alone."

"I wasn't alone, Finnick was there."

"It's not the same and you know it!"

"How?"

"Because Finnick isn't in love with you!"

"And you are?"

Peeta stepped toward her as he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear," It's always been you. I needed to be there."

Katniss ducked her head as his hand lingered at her cheek," It's never going to be simple with us, is it?"

Peeta shook his head," No, I don't think so."

Katniss nodded as she looked up," How much did you want to hurt the council member when I was flirting with him?"

Peeta shook his head as she tried not to laugh," A lot."

* * *

009C.

_**Daria**_

The silk dress against my skin sickens me more than the stiff material of the code uniforms. I almost have to laugh at the thought of my wishing for the awful clothing I've had to endure for the last few years. I push my hair back behind my ears, while I slid the sandals off and on my feet.

There isn't much to do in the courtesan quarters, and I keep worrying about the younger girls back at the barracks. Giggling from the other side of room, grabs my attention as well as my annoyance as I look behind me to find a few of the older girls talking behind their hands.

I'm not paranoid in thinking their talking about me; it was quite the scandal when I was forced to stay in the courtesan quarters a day ago. Most of them keep a good distance from me, which is more than agreeable for both parties.

I'm seen as a cautionary tale for the newly appointed courtesans, the way I defy the Elective is popular scandal. None of the others can fathom why I would rather live day by day in poverty with the codes from the camp, than live in luxury while I wait to be auctioned off to the next pervert with a proclivity for young girls.

Also my actions from when I first arrived to the camp is well known by most, not most female codes have stricken Head Keeper Thread and lived to tell about it. I would assume most would see this admirable but courtesans sharing the room with me see it as merely idiotic.

I stand up with a sigh, the scent of perfume is nauseating as I walk pass them to the hallway. Their snickering increases as I make it to the door, my hand is on the knob when I hear the ringleader call my name. I reluctantly turn around, her bright red hair is spilling around her face in curls, and I fight back the urge to rush up to her and tear every strand from her swelled head. She sneers at me before opening her mouth to speak.

"We're all very glad to have an orphan trash like you sharing our space. Maybe next time you could just do as you're told and stay at the designated functions."

I want to strike back, to inform her of how mistaken she is, because if anyone is trash it would without a doubt be her. However I only nod, before turning back to the door opening it, as the laughter fills the room. I shut the door behind me before leaning my head against it.

I can feel the tears falling down my face, as I push the dampness from my cheeks. I ball my hands in fists, as I dig my nails into my palms. I sigh before pushing myself off from the door to walk down the brightly decorated corridor.

The sandals almost slip of my feet as I briskly walk past the courtesan quarters, needing to be somewhere quiet where I can let myself think. I walk for a while, but I don't realize where I am until I see him standing a few feet in front of me. I look around recognizing the competitor quarters; I turn my attention back to him as he continues to watch me.

I'm furious with him, but I also want for him to take me in his arms. His hair is brushed back, causing his face to be clear from his bangs, which only allows his blue eyes to shine even more. I can feel myself beginning to sink further into his stare, before I shake my head and turn back toward the courtesan quarters.

I make it only a few inches before I can feel a tight grip on my bare arm. His fingers are warm and tender on my skin and I close my eyes for a few seconds relishing in the sensation before I turn toward him. I can imagine how angry I look, but he's unflinching, the resolute clear on his face.

"Let go of me, Brenton!"

He shakes his head, causing a few pieces of bangs to fall around his face," No. Not until you talk to me."

I try to pull from him but he pulls me closer," You let me know how you feel about me very clear."

His eyes fell shortly before finding mine again," Please just talk to me."

I drop my gaze," What are you doing at the competitor quarters anyway?"

"I could ask you the same?"

"I came from the courtesan quarters. I have to stay there from now on; it's punishment for leaving the party early. Apparently my company was missed by council man Crane."

He nodded," Same with me. They want to keep a closer eye on me."

I pull away again, this time freeing myself," Which is why you and I shouldn't be seen together."

Brenton lets out a frustrated growl as he latches onto my arm again, pulling me forward. I try to plant my feet firmly to the ground but he's stronger than I am, however I still try to fight him off for a couple of seconds before I cede.

He stops at a door, which I assume are his quarters and I can feel the panic rising in my gut. I'm not accurate if it's from the fear of someone seeing us together or the possibility of not being able to control myself if we're alone. He turns the knob quickly before opening the door and dragging me through. I pull from his grasp when we're finally inside as he closes the door

. I take in my surroundings; it's out of habit, as I observe the room. It's larger than the training area, and the ceiling reaches high as dark blue curtains hang over the barred windows. It's a bit more toned down than the Capitol but not by much. I can feel him watching me, as I turn toward him.

He's standing still with a pained expression. I can feel my anger ebbing which only infuriates me more.

I cross my arms over my chest, as I begin to tap my foot impatiently," You wanted to talk. So talk."

He takes in a deep breath as he advances towards me," I shouldn't have reacted that way. It wasn't fair. And leaving you there with those people was wrong, I should taken you with me so I could have-"

I drop my arms to my side, as I seethed with anger," Protected me?"

He nods slowly, his voice is soft and gentle," Yes."

He continues to walk towards me, as I begin to close the gap," I don't need you, Brenton Mellark! I don't need your concerns or your kisses! I was fine before you came here!," he's feet from me as he watches me closely," I was fine with being closed off and then you had to come and make me feel for you!," he places his hands at my arms as I try to push him off, but he keeps steady," I started to open up, and I hate myself for letting you effect me so much. I can't be who I am; I can't live in this world and be vulnerable, because I won't survive."

I don't fight him off as he pulls me into him; I press my cheek hard against his chest as his fingers tangle in my hair. My body begins to shake as the crying takes over, but he only holds on tighter. I bury my hands in between our two bodies, my hands balling the material of his shirt in my fists.

I use him as a lifeline while I'm lost in the tears. Brenton leans down placing his lips to the top of my head.

His voice is so quiet I almost don't hear him over my crying," When I saw you there, all I felt was grief. Not because of you, but because I felt… I feel you're the only good thing that has come from all of this. And when I saw you there waiting to be abused by some stranger, all I could think of was how the Capitol took you too. I've lost everything to it, my father, my freedom, my freewill, and I felt losing you was the worst."

I breath in him slowly as I choke back the tears," But they don't have me, not like you. And that's why it hurts worse with you."

He strokes the hair down my back and I can feel his finger tips graze the bare skin there," I know."

"I fought back at first, when I came here. I fought and fought, until my body was broken and I pushed back even more until one day I was just too tired."

"Why didn't you live in the courtesan quarters willingly?"

I shrug in his arms," I think it's like you and your name. I held back something from them, something I kept for myself. My own small act of defiance."

Brenton pulls away from me, I start to question him until I can feel his hands on my raw cheeks pulling my face up to meet his," Daria, I can't promise you I'll never disappoint you again, but I can promise you'll always have me."

I shake my head," You can't promise something like that."

He smiles faintly at me, "Yes I can," his right thumb begins to stroke my cheek, as he stares into my eyes," I never wanted to be the cause of your pain. And I do want to protect you."

I can't control the tears spilling from my eyes now, his hands are warm on my face and I lean into his touch.

"I'm just so tired."

I can see the tears beginning to fill his own eyes, as he nods leading me to the bed at the other side of the room. His hands leave my face as he slides his hands down my arms, as he walks backwards, never breaking our stare. My hands fold perfectly into his, and I feel safe and calm.

Brenton backs onto the bed as I follow him, the bed spread is soft and inviting. He lets go of my hands to lay on his side as I back up into his chest. He takes my hands in his as I fold into his body. I begin to cry even more as soon as my cheek lands on his forearm, I can hear him consoling me from behind and in this moment I'm acutely aware of how much I love him, and this frightens me.

* * *

009D.

_**Brenton**_

The corridor of the competitor quarters is surprisingly quiet as I walk toward the training area. I'm aware my paranoia has heightened but it seems eerily suspicious. I take in a deep breath trying to clear my mind, knowing that having convoluted theories about a conspiracy against me will do nothing but certainly get me killed.

My hands graze my t-shirt, and I can't help but think of Daria. She had laid there in my arms for nearly two hours before she had fallen asleep, I couldn't stop watching her. It's odd to be in a place like this where your very identity is stripped away and to still feel absolutely whole by another person.

After she had fallen asleep I continued to run my fingers through her hair, and the thought of loving this girl felt more real than anything I've ever felt. To have such strong feelings for another person frightens me, I needed some space, some time to think, because if I don't survive the arena, I'll just be another person who leaves her, and I don't want to break my promise.

I decided piercing a few dummies through the heart with arrows would help me. When I reach the doors, I'm acutely aware of the presence of another person. I mentally scold myself for not bringing a weapon, especially since Serkan and his cronies are still out for my head.

I turn slowly, my fists at the ready, when I see his lanky form coming towards me. He seems just as surprised to see me before he smirks, and I have to roll my eyes.

Carr holds his arms out," Well look who is, The Boy on Fire!"

"It's the whelp from the laundry room."

He lets out a laugh as he places his hand over his chest feigning pain," Ouch," he walks up to me pointing his finger at me," You know you're getting better, someday you may just be almost as clever as me."

"I can only hope."

He nods as he smiles," Yes. Yes you can."

I reach for the door when something strikes me, I turn back to him," What are you doing here, Carr?"

He almost seems caught off guard before he recovers," Oh, I was just dropping off some linen."

"Don't you have the younger codes do your dirty work for you?"

He nods," Yes, usually but not when the delivery is to the courtesan quarters. They think I'm funny."

"Speaking of courtesan-"

He sighs as he becomes serious," Did she tell you?"

"I saw her at a party."

"You know Daria is the most genuine person I know. She's put through hell, and she never complains."

"I know, Carr."

I open the doors to the training area, before I walk over the threshold waving him in. He finally complies, as he walks in behind me closing the doors. I almost have to scoff at his wide eyed fascination with the room. Carr walks to the center of the room; his head leaned back as he looks to the skylight. He places his hands on his sides, as he looks to me.

"Holy shit!"

I laugh a little," I know."

"Maybe Peeta Mellark should have been my father, and you could have been the one waking up at three in the morning to work the fields."

I sit down on the bench against the wall as Carr joins me," Fields? You were a farmer?"

He tilts his head," Well, the son of a farmer. But yes, my family owned the last remaining district citizen piece of free land. It was simple, but it was my life."

"Where's your family now?"

He leans his head back against the wall," They're waiting for me. I'll find them when I leave this place. What about your family?"

"Well I would think everyone would know by now."

"I didn't ask about the shit Snow pushes down everyone throats. I asked about your family."

I try to smile, but it falters," I grew up with just my mother. We moved around a lot, I never knew why, until now. But things were always good, she took care of me. It wasn't until a few years back I found out the man I thought was my father wasn't, and instead I'm the son of a man who left us."

Carr leans over, placing his hands in each other," I wouldn't try to understand why things were done. The real issue is that you need to either come to the conclusion that your father left you and that he's a good man, or not. But it's something you need to work through."

"How do you even know if my father is a good man?"

"I think anyone who is selfless enough to give up his own happiness to help others is a good man."

I breathe in slowly before looking to Carr," Does this mean we're kind of friends?"

He sits up," I guess so," he holds his hands up," but don't think it's an invitation for you to hug me or anything."

I laugh loudly as I nod," Alright, no hugs."

"No offense you're just not my type."

We both begin to laugh, until there's silence. I'm starting believe there might be more for me than surviving.

* * *

009E.

_**Brenton**_

My anxieties are beginning to rise as I make my way to Master Heavensbee's office. As he was helping me into my arena outfit, Cinna had informed me of Plutarch's request to see me before games began again. I had silently nodded, as he helped me strap the armor to my chest.

I move my hand over the mockingjay pin above my heart; it gives me a sense of security, if such a thing is attainable. After I had said goodbye to Carr, and he made his way back up to the camp. I went back to my quarters, assuming I would find Daria still asleep.

However the room was empty, the bed spread had been straightened and I debated going to the courtesan quarters to find her. The thought of her having to go to the Capitol caused panic to rise within me, but I told myself she most likely had to get back before she rose suspicions.

So, I sat in my room for almost an hour until Haymitch came in to tell me it was time to prepare. His eyes were more vacant than before, and he didn't smell of his usual combination of liquor and vomit. He led me to Cinna's in silence and his behavior worried me.

Haymitch gave me a sharp nod before he muttered something about luck, as he walked back the other way.

The heavy doors to Plutarch's office are wide open, which rises my curiosity. I walk up to the threshold as I stick my head through, my body still firmly in the hall.

I spot him sitting in one of the velvet chairs set in front of his desk. His back is hunched, unlike his usual stature, which causes my anxiety to rise even more. I walk through without an invitation, and proceed to stand in front of him. I keep my voice low and quiet, as he cradles his face in his hand.

"Sir, I was told you wanted to see me."

He almost jumps out of his seat which startles me in return; I approach him as I would a wounded animal. His face relaxes a bit when he notices it's me, but the bruise marring his face gets my attention. He waves me to sit in the chair beside him and I comply.

His complete demeanor is one of a broken man, and I'm afraid to question the cause. When he doesn't speak to me for the longest time, I initiate the conversation.

"Sir, what happened to your face?"

He seems almost confused by my question, when he remembers the bruise, his hand going to where it lies.

"Oh yes," his face falls as he places his hands in his lap," You shouldn't concern yourself with such things, when you have much more immediate concerns."

"You wanted to see me?"

"Yes," he turns in his seat towards me," There are things that have been set in motion, most before you were even born. And I'm afraid they're about to come to head."

I shake my head," I'm not following."

He nods quickly almost as if he's rushed," I know. And it's not fair for a child of your age to be placed in such a position, and I take full responsibility for my part."

I furrow my brow," Sir?"

"I saw no other way, the war had been going on for so long, and both sides were equally balanced. I needed something to tip the scales, something that people could latch onto… a purpose," he's rambling now and I stay silent as he works through his own words," The people of the districts needed a reason to rebel, they needed a face to connect with the resistance. Peeta's image had been marred by the Capitol and Snow through all of the propaganda. We needed someone seen as innocent, a warrior to carry us through," I feel sick as his words begin to make sense to me," We needed a child, someone who was carrying on the Mellark blood line."

I nod slowly," You brought me here, that's why you were at the gate when I arrived, and why I had access to most of the grounds. Haymitch's tapes, my grandfather's mocking jay pin, it was all what to make me more sympathetic to the crowd? How long had you been watching me?"

"I did this all for the greater good."

I'm furious as I jump out of my seat," The greater good? How could you have been sure Snow wouldn't have killed me the first second after he knew who my father was?"

"Because he needs you. He wants to make an example of you, but every time you come back stronger. I had to end this war for my friend. I knew of the kill order on your father's family, but I was too late to stop it, and by the time I arrived in District 12, your father had already escaped."

"Why would you tell me all of this, when you could have kept it from me?"

"I needed you to know how close you are, how close we all are. There's already been revolting in some of the lower districts. They're inspired by the Boy on Fire."

"I never wanted people to die because of me."

He stands up next to me, his suit wrinkled and torn," Snow knows of my deception, he's going to make an example of me."

"You work with my father don't you?"

"Yes,and I've seen him and your mother."

"My mother?"

"Yes. They need you to hold on a little longer."

"Plutarch we both know the reality of me getting out of the camp alive is slim."

He places his hands on my arms," Brenton do you know why Snow is so terrified of you," I shake my head silently as he goes on," Because you embody everything he can't afford. You give hope, and you're a decent brave young man, and he can't risk losing control over the country, and you're the one person who can jeopardize everything he's ever worked for."

"What am I supposed to do? I'm only one person?"

"You fight until you're not able to. It's the best any of us can do."

* * *

009F.

_**Brenton**_

There's no procession this time, as I'm pushed into the stall from before, my bow hangs from the wall beside me, and I slip it over my head along with the quiver. The arrows knock from side to side as I adjust the strap, and I take in a deep breath as the door begins to open, revealing the presence of a Keeper.

He keeps his eyes on me as he waves me forward, I slip pass him walking up to the doors which lead to the arena. The silence is troubling, the air still without the deafening shouts of the crowd. I close my eyes picturing the arena in my mind; I try to piece every detail together hoping it'll give me some kind of advantage.

The Keeper places his pointer finger to his ear, as he receives information from the other end of the device. I close my eyes, as I move my hand over to my heart where the pin lies. I give myself a few minutes of panic before I open my eyes, and will myself to be brave. The doors begin to open, and the stench of blood and dirt hits me.

I try to breath from out of my mouth; the Keeper pushes me through with the barrel of his rifle. My feet miss a few steps before I right myself, I look up but see the same sky from before, but I know I'm being watched. My mind goes to the condition that I found Plutarch in and I'm automatically worried about Daria, and the others.

I mentally shake myself to concentrate, I need to be focused because if I'm accurate about anything, I'm willing to believe this time around it'll be more challenging for me. The sound of the announcers voice almost makes me flinch when it fills the arena.

"_Ladies and Gentlemen, Brenton Mellark, The Boy on Fire!"_

I can imagine the cheers from the crowd as well as the negative reactions. My hand goes behind me to pull my bow over my head, my fingers wrap around the riser as my fist finds its place around the grip. I'm prepared for anything as I survey the area around me.

The ground around me begins to shake as other competitors come up from the ground, the sand and dirt separating from the metal landings. I reach back into my quiver, pulling an arrow free, finally securing it at the nock. I keep my arms relaxed and the bow and arrow pointed downward.

I'm once again in the middle of the circle and I curse my luck as well as my stupidity to be so predictable. The announcer's voice once again fills the air, and I can't help my annoyance.

"_Let the Vanquisher Games begin!"_

Most of the competitors don't waste any time attacking each other but I know I may have a better advantage if I can somehow get to higher ground. I search around midst the slaughter, I spot a few landings where the bricks jut out from the wall.

I assume I can pull myself up enough to use it as an advantage point. I take a deep breath before I run through the crowd of the other competitors, while I keep my body close to the ground weaving through. I look up and see a rather large male career coming towards me with a raised mace, I stand up to my full height gaining my stance as I pull back the bowstring, the arrow resting at my finger tips. I count the seconds as he finally steps into range, releasing the arrow allowing it to find its home in his throat at the jugular.

I reach back into the quiver, depositing another arrow at the nock before running to the wall. I make it to the wall without injury but the shuffling of sand alerts me to another presence. I turn around to find a lean muscular boy armed with an array of throwing knives, I swallow hard as he sends one my way, but I reflect it with the recurve.

The arrow falls to the sand sinking into the ground, I quickly hunched down as I blindly search for it. I suppose I can reach back into my quiver but I don't want to waste anymore arrows than I have to.

The boy is running towards me and I have to give up my search, begrudgingly I stand up and hold my bow by the upper and lower limb, using it as a shield and weapon.

He launches another blade at me, I shift the bow to block but I miss and it buries into the meat of my upper bicep. I don't have enough time to concentrate on my pain before he's feet from me, his arm raised with a serrated blade raised.

I grit through the pain as I knock the blade from his hand with my bow, the action not stopping there as the bow makes contact with his jaw bone. I throw my bow down to the ground as I shift my body and plant my feet, my fist making contact with his temple.

His head whips to the side but he recovers quickly to reciprocate, as the force of his punch is heavy and felt. I'm knocked dizzy, which gives him the opportunity to grab me by the throat; he's stronger than I would have assumed. His fingers crush at my throat as he uses his other hand to reach for another blade.

This one is curved slightly at the tip, and he grins as he aims for my gut. I stomp down at his knee cap, a crushing sound being heard before I collide my fist with his wrist, causing him to release my throat.

He loosens his grip on the blade, which gives me enough opportunity to hit the body of the handle with the heel of my hand to make it fly into the air.

I reach out, catching it firmly as I quickly force the blade up under his jaw to plant itself up into his brain. He sputters blood onto my face before falling to the ground, his body in a heap. I let out a strangled cough as I pull the blade from my arm, the blood running down my bare skin.

I reach down for my bow picking it up quickly even though I'm losing most of the grip in my right hand the side where my wound lies.

I slip the bow over my head and proceed to climb up the wall as blood travels down my side. I almost lose my handle, as the blood and sweat make my grip slippery.

I scream through the pain of pulling myself up the last few inches until I reach the small landing. There's barely enough time for me to hunch down, but I make it due.

I use the back of my hand to wipe the sweat and the competitor's blood from my face. I survey the arena as I reach into my quiver to place an arrow at the nock, my hand is beginning to become numb, and I try to pose myself accordingly.

Most of the competitors have already ridded themselves of each other, though at least ten remain. I quickly release my arrow, causing it to find its home in another's throat before I take down another competitor the same way.

I'm busy trying to find another arrow when I hit with the sensation of falling. My body hurls through the air and I hit the ground hard, the air in my lungs escaping. A career I remember from before is standing over me, after my head clears I come to the conclusion he must have climbed up halfway to pull me down. He's dark skinned with braided hair, and he has about a hundred pounds on me.

I roll onto my stomach scrambling for my bow, the knees of my black pants are torn and I can feel the sand and gravel tear into the flesh there. My arm is now fully covered in blood from my wound and the salt from the sand and my sweat stings.

I make it to my bow but his foot comes down to it, breaking it in half. I don't have enough time to morn until he does the same to my right hand, stepping down on fingers. I hear the crunching and breaking before I feel it.

A guttural cry escapes my lips, and I feel almost helpless for a few seconds, before I use my good hand to reach into my waist and pull out my own blade, planting it in his thigh. He lets out his own cries, but it gives me enough time to scramble to my feet.

I'm on shaky legs as I make my way to one of the many dead bodies, I reach down into the palm of the corpse and pull free the sword there. I have to use my non- dominate hand as my right one is almost useless now and hangs at my side.

I turn towards where the larger competitor had been, but I'm more than startled when he's inches from me and easily knocks the sword from my grasp. I utter a sharp curse before he rears back and kicks me in the gut sending me backwards.

I land over the corpse who I had taken the weapon from, I quickly roll off, the sand and blood making a solid material on the right side of my body. My broken fingers are painful and I try to push the senses out of my mind. I can feel my pulse race, as I hunch over my knees firmly planted in the ground, I can feel the quiver still at my back and I pray that there's at least an arrow left, since I've lost all of my blades after being thrown to the ground so many times.

I reach behind me, my fingers roaming the container when I finally feel one. I pull it out and jump to my feet, but not without wavering for a few seconds. He steps over the corpse as I step back, the arrow raised, if I'm going to die I'm going to go down with a fight.

He's advancing on me, and I begin to see everything flash before my eyes. But most of all I see Daria, and I feel sick for breaking my promise to her. I hope she's not watching right now, but I assume it's mandatory. The larger boy is inches from me, I rear back to try to plant the arrow in his neck but he easily knocks it from me.

He reaches at my armor and picks me up like a rag doll. My feet leave the ground and I tuck my fingers into my palms and strike the heels of my hands to his temples, he's disoriented enough as I dig my nails into the flesh behind hid ears to plant my thumbs into his eyes, animalistic cries escape his lips as saliva runs down his chin.

I keep pressing until blood begins to spill; he drops me abruptly as he tends to his eyes. I land hard on my back, halfway landing on my already broken fingers. I let out my own cries, as I look up and see the sword he now wields. He must have searched for it while I had the air knocked out of me; I begin to rear my legs back, hoping to take his knees out before he has the opportunity strike, when a blade slides across his neck.

More blood escapes his lips as he drops the sword, his hands gong to his throat. I have to roll out of the way before he falls onto me, his heavy body causing the ground to shake as it hits down.

I grab the sword ready to attack from my back, when a familiar face gives me a slight smile before extending his hand to me.

My surprise isn't hidden, my eyes wide," Carr?"

He grabs me by the wrist, trying to miss my wounded fingers," Hey, buddy. How's it going with you?"

I have to laugh at his nonchalant behavior," Oh, nothing just trying not to die."

"Sounds fun."

I shake my head," It isn't."

"Yeah."

I look around us and I can spot a few other competitors on the far end, there's plenty of movement and I half way hope they kill each other off so I can at least get out of here with one working hand. I look to Carr, who still holds the blade in his hand. He has a wound to the chest, and a deep cut to the side of his face. He's checking our surroundings also, and I have to question his presence.

"What are you doing here?"

"I guess the council members thought that you competitors needed some more code goodies to play with," he motions across to a similar cage from before," They slaughtered most of us but I was able to get through and then I saw that big fucker beating the shit out of you, so I thought I'd save you."

I raise an eyebrow," You fought off careers?"

Annoyance and hurt comes over him," Hey just because I work in the laundry room doesn't, it doesn't make me a pussy. I can hold my own."

I nod toward the corpse of the large competitor," Clearly."

He gives me a toothy grin, as he slaps my on my good side," What do you say we get this over with? Are you good, because if you're not, I can just do it on my own-"

"Screw that," I nod through intense pain," I'm good."

"Ok. But I hate to say it; you may have to use the right hand. Because you suck at using the left hand."

"So, what now you're an expert on combat?"

"You know I love it when you get all sassy."

I roll my eyes at him as we run over to where the last two careers, are slicing their way through the last remaining codes. I mentally note to myself to watch for the ground to begin to open.

Carr makes it to the crowd before me, as he pushes the few young codes out of the way to slide his blade against the face of the career. I run up behind the career burying the sword in his back, blood spilling out around my feet as I slide the blade out, the pain from my arm and fingers is almost blinding, and I push the pain away.

I can drown myself in the pain after I'm out of the arena. When the sword is finally free, I glance to the far side where Carr has gathered the remaining crying children. I can hear movement behind me, and I spin around and thrust my sword without thinking.

The careers eyes are wide as the blade is hilt deep into his gut, although I wasn't quick enough as I scream out from their own blade sinking into my wounded shoulder. I use my foot to push his body from sword so that I can remove the blade from my body.

The blade slips out as his body falls in a heap, and I fall to my knees. I feel sick and I can't help the bile that rises up my throat to mix in with the sand. I stand up and wipe the bile from my mouth with the back of my hand.

A loud gong much like the one from before goes off, and I look over to Carr who joins me. I look up to where the crowd is, it's almost pandemonium as the Capitol citizens cheer, and I can hear the mantra roaring through the arena.

"_Boy on Fire! Boy on Fire!"_

I wait for the announcer to sound over the arena, but I begin to worry when I look up and I can see Keepers surrounding the arena from above. Carr's looking toward the codes; I assume he's not seeing what I am as he begins to walk toward the crying children. AS if on cue each Keeper positions their weapons to the arena.

My voice is raw from my bruised throat," Oh, no."

Carr doesn't have enough time to react to my statement before the Keepers fire freely into the crowd of children. Their bodies begin to riddle with bullets as the force of the assault throws them around easily. Carr makes a move but I hold him back, the pain in my right side unbearable.

"Carr, no! It's too late!"

"We can't just stand here!"

"I'm sorry, but they're gone."

He begins to open his mouth, as I watch as if in slow motion as the bullet tears through his chest to exit out his back, I try to catch him before he falls to the ground. I look ahead and I see Thread string back at me, tipping his gun to me as he smiles. I drop to the ground moving Carr's body onto my lap, as I try to push my hands onto his wound.

The blood rushes out and I can't even make out the shape of my own hands. The tears begin to fall down my face, and I grit my teeth trying to stop my own sobbing as Carr's eyes well up.

"I'm sorry, Carr."

"Don't- don't let them-them- break you," he reaches up to grab my good shoulder," Your father would be proud of you."

I can't stop the tears as his hand drops to his stomach, and the light goes out of his eyes as the remaining tears fall down his face. I drop my head, my body wracking with tears, I ball his bloody clothing in my hands as I lean my head back, facing up to the sky.

I release a guttural scream which forces the arena quiet, the doors to the arena open. I face forward and reach for the sword, all I feel us rage and grief. I stand up gripping onto the handle, I must look like a madman, and almost inhuman covered in blood and sweat, my eyes dark and menacing.

I leave Carr's body on the floor of the arena as I stalk toward the crowd of Keepers. They point their rifles at me but I proceed to advance, I can hear them warn me off but it's almost as if their voices are far off. One of the Keepers fires off a warning shot, but I'm too far off to feel fear now.

It's not until a bullet buries itself into my leg that I drop the sword, my body falling to the ground. I'm picked up by a couple of Keepers who take each side of me, as I struggle against their grasp.

I'm screaming until my lungs burn, my body pulling at each side. They almost lose their grasp more than once as I'm taken out of the arena and through the doors.

My body is slick from the blood and wounds and I wish to be laid down in a pool of it to end the pain. I hate myself for being so naïve to think I could beat Snow and the Capitol at their game. I'm nothing but an idiotic child who lucked out to be the son of a resistance leader, nothing more.

* * *

**Review, Review!**


	10. Chapter 10

****Rated Adult for Language, Character Death, Violence, Physical Abuse, and Sexual Situation.

**10A**

_**Brenton**_

Every part of my body aches, but it's nothing compared to the vastness I'm feeling inside. My legs have become numb after lying on the floor of my quarters for the last hour. After the Keepers had drug me from the arena, I was taken to one of the labs where the bullet wound in my leg was healed along with my two knife wounds.

My fingers were pushed back into place, before the bones were mended. The pain was excruciating especially since it was all done without any pain reliever to lessen the brunt of the pain. I continued to squirm and fight back, almost like a caged animal, until I felt almost hollow, I know the medical techs assumed my adrenaline had ceased, but the reality was, I was just too tired to fight anymore.

I didn't object when I was thrown into a bath of freezing water, or even when Thread came up behind me after I was dressed to drag my back to my quarters by my throat. Soon after the door had opened he threw me against the wall, where my battered body hit the wall with force, I crumpled to the floor easily, where I continue to lie.

My neck is bent, as my head is supported by the wall, while the rest of my body is limp. I feel lost, more so than I've ever felt and it frightens me that I may never find my way back.

The door to my quarters begins to open up and I don't even bother to attempt to stand up or take a defensive pose. The sound is slow and whining, which confirms it isn't a Keeper entering, they're movements are always fast and rigid.

I can smell her scent of lavender before she fully enters the room, I resent her for coming to see me, and because she's the last person I want to see me so broken. I glance up quickly to see her moving towards me, she's wearing another sun dress, this time its white with light purple flowers stitched into the material, her dark hair is braided to the side sloppily, while her feet are bare.

She's looks as if she had gotten dressed in a hurry, preoccupied to worry about her appearance. Although to me she's as beautiful now as she's ever been, and this begins to initiate the fury rising up through me.

Daria hunches down to my eye level, as she reaches for my face, her tender hands framing my structure. She traces her fingers over the bruises and cuts on my face, her green eyes worried but gentle.

She manipulates my movements easily, without any fight from me, as she moves my face from side to side to examine it properly. Her delicate fingers go to my shoulder which is now healed, but still read and bruised.

I fight the urge to lean into her touches to allow her to nurture me, to make me feel whole again, I refuse to let myself become close to her, when the real reality is I will lose her much like Carr, and everyone else here, that I've come to know as an ally. I can feel her hands roam back to my face, as she forces me to meet her eye to eye.

This time I try to fight her, but she wins out and I have to look into her deep green eyes. They're almost golden beneath the tears, still holding place there as others run down her tanned skin. I'm lost for words as she searches my blank expression for any signs of fight or life. I can feel my own tears wanting to rise up from my chest, and I have to grit my teeth to shove my emotions down.

When I finally speak my voice is raw and unfamiliar," Carr's dead."

She nods quickly causing a few strands from her braid to escape, falling around her face," I know."

"He's dead because of me-"

"No-"

"He's dead because he knew me, because he trusted me, and all I could do was watch."

I close my eyes as tears fall down the bridge of my nose and onto her fingers, I can hear her saying my name in a soothing tone, but it means nothing to me. When I open my eyes, she's still watching me closely, her own face red and streaked by tears.

"He'll never be able to find his family after leaving here, and that's all on me."

She seems confused and I can see her furrow her brow," Brenton, what are you talking about?"

"Carr said after he left he was going to be with his family, and he's never going to have it now."

She begins to rub her thumbs against my face," Brenton, Carr's family was killed, just before he arrived at the farm. They haven't been alive for years," she takes a deep breath;" he is with them now."

My body begins to shake as I double over; tears are streaming down my face. I feel as though I'm about to vomit, as the realization of Daria's statement hits me. Her hands are now on my shoulders as she tries to console me again.

I grit down again, almost biting my tongue in the process, as the grief and finality of the situation I'm in comes to a head. I reach up and push her back, away from me. She hits the ground lightly as she catches herself, causing her to sit down.

I pull my legs free, as I use the wall as leverage to stand up. Daria doesn't question me; she just silently stands up also, watching me as I round her. I run my hands through my hair, stopping midway to tug at the ends.

Everything feels out of my control and I need to grasp something, even as insignificant as my hair, to keep a sense of sanity. I'm sure I look insane, as I rock on my feet with my fingers tangled in my hair. I can sense her beside me, and the air in the room is thick and unbearable.

"Daria, leave."

"No."

"Go."

"No."

I throw my hands down and turn to her grabbing her by the arms," Get out!"

She stands her ground," No!"

I'm shaking now which causes her body to do the same," LEAVE!"

"NO!"

I'm losing my resolve, my shoulders fall as my body almost falls against hers," Why won't you leave?"

Daria places her hands on my shoulders, helping to hold me up," Because you need me, even if you can't see it now."

"Why would you even want to be here for me?"

"Do I really need to answer that?"

I reach up covering her hands with mine," Maybe you should."

Her hands are trembling underneath me, as I steady her as much as she is me," You see me. You make me want to feel again, to fight for something. Before you, I was lost and you found me," she leans her forehead to mine gently but the pressure of her skin on mine is noticeable," You saved me, because you see me. You see me for more than what the Capitol has made me into. You see what they tried to break, and I feel the most incredible freedom when I'm with you."

I let out a strangled sigh, before I close my eyes" Daria-"

Her voice is quiet, causing me to almost miss it," I think… I think I love you."

I open my eyes quickly before releasing her hands and stepping away from her. Her arms hang in the air for a few seconds before they drop to her side. The world is spinning and I stumble back a few steps, reaching out for the edge of the bed for support.

I lean to the side momentarily before righted myself, before running my hands through my disarray of hair. I dare a glance to her, predicting to find her upset or angry, but instead she walks over to me silently, her green eyes locking onto mine.

I hold my hands out to stop her, as I shake my head slowly," You don't want to love me."

Daria reaches out taking my hands into hers, her slim delicate fingers wrap around my battered ones. She curls my fingers into hers, as she moves into me, our hands trapped between our two bodies. I want to protest, to push her away but I'm lost in the warmth of her body against mine.

Ever so softly she presses her lips to mine, and I can feel my body begin to hum. My hands begin to shake, Daria squeezes my hands with hers, causing my tremors to cease. She parts her lips slightly allowing my tongue access, as I press mine against hers. Her mouth is warm and wet as I lean into her more intensifying the pressure of the kiss.

I'm lost in the feel of her mouth, that I almost don't notice when she begins to pull her hands free from mine. My hands are still pressed up against her stomach, when I feel the hem of my shirt being raised up a few inches. I break our kiss, my mouth still open as I begin to open my eyes. My head hangs close to hers, as I try to catch my breath. Her nails barely trail the skin at my sides, as the material of my shirt is hooked into her pointer fingers.

I can feel the air hitting my bare skin as the shirt is raised above my stomach resting at the bottom of my ribs. My hands are now stopping the progression, and I try to slow my breathing down enough to speak.

"What are you doing?"

Her voice is quiet but gentle;" I want you to feel how I see you."

I shake my head," I've never-"

She lowers her head to scoop in low enough to catch my lips again, the kiss is soft, before she parts her lips to speak against mine," I've never made love either."

I look at her for the longest moment before I step back a few inches, raising my arms above my head. My stomach is in knots as her fingers graze over the skin above my ribs and ultimately my chest. I keep eye contact with her until; the shirt reaches my chin, prompting for her to have to pull it over my face.

Her hands travel up the inside of my arms before locking hands with me, my shirt dropped over to the side. Daria's hands slide down my arms and shoulders to rest at my chest, a slight shiver goes through me, and I know she's sensed it as she leans up to kiss me gently.

I lower my arms to my sides, before I can't resist intensifying the pressure as I press against her lips with mine even more so. My tongue pushes against her mouth, as she opens her lips, a deep moan escapes her mouth.

I travel my own hands around her sides to place them flat against her back, pulling her into me. She lightly scrapes her nails at my chest, as the passion begins to take each of us over. I ball the silk material of her dress in my hands which causes the hem to rise up above her bottom, I continue to gather the fabric in my hands until I feel her skin against mine.

My rough calloused hands rub against her smooth skin, I can feel the sweat begin to form on my palms, as my heart begins to beat faster. Daria has moved her hands up from chest to my hair, her fingers tangling there.

We part lips as we stare into the other one's face, studying the other's reaction. I waste no time pulling the dainty sun dress up her body, she's still pressed against me, I almost lose my breathe when her bare skin meets mine. There's almost a crackle in the air, and everything almost goes blank.

My head is dizzy with lust and I can see the same reflected in her eyes. I pull back enough to travel the dress up the rest of her body; I keep her gaze as she raises her arms the dress sliding up gently to eventually be pooled at their feet with my shirt, my hands dropping to my sides.

I swallow hard before I dare look at her naked body, my eyes travel slowly to her chest. She's firmly shaped, with golden skin running up to meet blushed nipples, my hands itch to reach up to her, but I'm confused as to what to do. I look up to her, causing her to smile as she moves her fingers from my hair to slide down my body to my hands, bringing them up to her chest.

My fingers curl hesitantly but she lays them flat against her, she moves her own down my stomach and to the waist line of my pants. Her fingers work at the button there, after unhooking the button from the fabric; she moves the zipper down slowly.

My hands are still for a few seconds before my fingers lightly graze the skin above her breasts, my thumbs lightly smoothing over her nipples. I can feel them harden underneath my fingers, as she closes her eyes, her feet shuffling.

I look down below my hands, to see her white lace panties. My right hand leaves her chest to move down to the waist line of the lace, I hook my finger in the material, bringing one side down over her hip to slide it as far as it will go without the other side needing to be moved.

Daria watches me closely as she pulls the waist line of my pants down enough until gravity helps her efforts; I step out of them and kick them to the side. It's not long until I'm standing naked in front of her, my hand still tangled in her underwear.

She gives me a small smile before she places a hand on mine, and to the other side, pulling the lace garment down. She bends down slipping the panties down her calves and over her feet. A blush moves up my body as she stands up, observing every inch of me.

My arousal is evident, and I'm self conscious. Daria moves her hands up to my chest, tracing the scars I've accumulated there. Her touches cause me to close my eyes, but I can feel the fire rushing through my veins. I give a low growl before I move my hands to her bare bottom, picking her up.

She complies by wrapping her legs around my midsection, her arms lying around my neck. I can feel her own arousal against my skin, as the wetness mixes in with the perspiration forming on my body. Her dark hair falls down her back, the tips of my fingers tickled by the strands.

I lean up and kiss her hard against the mouth, as I crawl onto the bed, laying her down onto the silk comforter. Her striking golden skin melts into the orange hues of the bed spread, as I take my hands from underneath her body to her own, raising them above her head, as I settle my body into hers.

Daria's legs are still wrapped around me, as I kiss the tip of her nose, before kissing her forehead. She relaxes her legs bringing them to my sides to rest against my hips, allowing me more access to her core. Our fingers tangle with the others, I swallow deep as I look into her gorgeous green eyes.

"I want to show you how I see you too. How beautiful and extraordinary I think you are."

She leans up placing a kiss to my lips," Show me."

I nod before, settling in between her legs and gently moving myself into her. I can't help the groan which comes from me, when I feel the warmth and tightness of her surrounding me. I'm already feeling lightheaded, as I thrust into her again, at first I try to keep it slow, I can feel her nails digging into my fingers as I begin to quicken the pace.

She produces her own stream of moans, as I bury my face in her shoulder; my breath is warm against her sweat drenched skin. The friction of our body riving against the other is almost unbearable, every part of me is on fire.

I can feel her shudder around me, as I enter her core again and again. Her knees press against my hips, bones grinding against bones, electricity travels through us to hang in the air, as adrenaline rushes through me. I move my face from her shoulder to her chest to lightly nip and suck at her breasts. I can taste the salt of her sweat on my tongue, before placing gently kisses to the nipples, as I travel up her neck to her jaw and then her lips.

Her kisses are quick, but form into long bruising pressure. I push into her once more, her nails dragging the length of my arms to rest at my back just below my shoulders. She's absolutely beautiful, and I'm taken aback that someone of her grace would even notice me, let alone reserve to love me.

I take in a deep breath, before I pull away from her face to look into her eyes.

My voice is raw," Daria, I," it cracks a little which causes me to swallow," I love you."

She smiles, but I can see tears filling her eyes, her hands move up to my face, framing it," I love you too."

I smile back at her, as I lean down to kiss her passionately. It's quick but passionate, before I press my forehead to hers, and ride the wave with her. Everything in my body is humming when it finally hits me with force, I collapse onto her, and our hands buried in the others hair as our bodies tangle within each other. Everything is blissfully calm and peaceful as I run my fingers through her dark hair. It's all blissfully wonderful as I lay with the woman I love.

* * *

10B.

_**Daria**_

I can feel his touches before I open my eyes, my feet are tangled in the silk sheets of his bed and I kick out to try to free myself. I must have fallen asleep on my stomach because my right arm is now trapped underneath me, and I fear has lost all its feeling.

I lift up enough to slip my arm out, allowing it to hang over the edge of the bed. I open my eye which isn't sunk into the pillow underneath my head, meeting his bright blue ones. He continues to run his fingers over my spine, my bare back open to him as the sheet is pushed down to sit at the small of my back.

He's propped himself up by his elbow, his head cradled in his palm as he watches me. I give a small yawn, before speaking.

"Did you sleep at all?"

He shakes his head, sticking out his bottom lip slightly," No."

"Why?"

He shrugs," I thought if I fell asleep maybe it would all turn out to be a dream."

I reach my hand, which lies beside me, up to his face laying it gently on his cheek," You're sweet."

"Is that why you love me?"

I laugh a little," Not really, I think it's your hot ass."

I can't control the laughter, as he rolls me over on my back, to straddle me as he tickles me.

"My hot ass huh," he continues to tickle my sides as I try to fold my body away from him, my head hitting the pillow as I giggle," Maybe I should make you pay for that."

I try to breathe over the laughter, my sides cramping," Oh yes please punish me!"

We're both laughing hysterically as he rolls off of me to lie beside me, his own breathing labored. I turn to lay on my side, my hand resting on his naked chest.

"What were you thinking when you watched me?"

He rubs his face harshly," You'll think it's silly, and most likely mock me."

I shrug," I may make fun of you anyway."

He nods as a smile graces his handsome face," I was thinking about us being together."

"We are together."

Brenton looks over to me, his expression serious," I know we are, but it's not what I meant. I was thinking about us having a family, a home, being together for always."

I release a breathe I was aware I was holding as I fall onto my back," Brenton-"

"I know it's impractical to think about something like that. The reality of me getting out of her alive is almost non -existent-"

I stop him short, turning my head to him;" You don't know that."

He nods," Yes, I do. I'm willing to bet Serkan will be in the arena next. He's better than I am, he's had longer to train, more experience and he doesn't flinch."

"That doesn't mean-"

"I got lucky the last few times, Daria. I'm skilled but I'm not that good."

"Why would you even bring up us being together, if you believe you won't make it?"

He turns on his side facing me, his right hand untangling my hair," Because thinking about you makes all the other crap bearable."

"You promised you would be here."

He takes me by the side so that I'm facing him, before he presses my body into his; he leans down to talk into my hair.

"I am here."

I nod into his chest as he holds me tightly, our legs tangle in the others. I press my body into his as far as I can, as tears begin to rush down my cheeks. I can hear him soothe me, while his hand rubs my back lovingly.

"I love you Daria, and nothing will ever change that."

I nod into his chest as I breathe in trying to hinder my tears; I pull away from him slowly. My hands go to my face where my hair has flooded it and I push it away, Brenton reaches out trying to help, which makes him laugh, as I try to escape the strands. When they're finally clear, I sniffle for a few seconds before I rub at my face.

"I must look awful."

He reaches out smoothing the hair framing my face," You're beautiful."

Before I can attest, a loud banging begins to come from the quarter doors. Brenton jumps off of the bed, scrambling for the floor as he searches the carpet for our clothing. He stands up quickly, both my dress and panties in his hands. He tosses them up to me where I begin to crawl off the bed.

"Hurry get dressed!"

I jump off the bed, quickly pulling on the flimsy dress and the under clothing. I look over to him and he's doing the same, as I round the bed. Brenton comes to stand in front of me as he finishes pulling is shirt down around his waist. He's blocking my view of the door, his arms are out to his side.

"I want you to stay behind me."

"Brenton, I can take care of myself-"

He glances back at me, an edge to his voice," Will you for once stop being stubborn and listen to me!"

I want to pull him into an argument, but about four Keepers break through the doors, before I can utter a word. Brenton keeps his footing in front of me, his shoulders squared; even through his shirt I can see the muscles in his back tense.

The Keepers take their places circling us, as they point their guns towards us. I reach out for Brenton's hand taking it in mine; he gives it a tight squeeze before pulling our adjoined hands to his chest. My chest presses to his back and I bury my face there, breathing him in, trying to gain another perfect memory of him.

I'm not naïve in thinking that we're both going to escape this situation unscaved. I can hear the click of their rifles, and I breathe in deeply waiting for the assault. Brenton reaches around to me to grab a hold of my other arm when I can hear parts of the broken doors hit the floor, I try not to flinch but my nerves are already wrecked.

I can already hear him chuckles to himself, and the sound of his laughter sends chills up my spine. I close my eyes tight, taking in a deep breath as I pull from Brenton's grasp to step around to stand beside him. My hand is still clutched in his and he quickly exchanges my right hand for my left, our joined hands are wedged in between our bodies.

Thread catches sight of me; a smirk comes over his facing causing the scar on his face to deepen. He shakes his head as he begins to laugh again, I tighten the hold on Brenton's hand, and I feel his hand start to tremor. I know he's just as scared as I am, but he keeps his face unreadable and stern.

Thread walk over to the bed kicking the side lightly before motioning toward the state of the bedding," Well what do we have here? A couple of love birds," he reaches down and pulls the sheets down to the floor, before walking over to stand directly in front of us," You know boy I assumed with you fighting in the arena it was bound to happen for you to bed a courtesan, but I never would have guessed it would be this one," he reaches out and strokes at my cheek, I turn my cheek away, I can feel Brenton's nails dig into my palm," She is pretty though isn't she? And I'm sure a ton of fun in between those legs, I've never experienced it for myself, but I'm told many Capitol citizens are fans-"

Before I can react, Brenton releases my hand, jumping out towards Thread, landing a clean punch against his jaw. Thread bounces back easily and pulls his forearm from his waist; the Keepers have readied their own guns on Brenton.

I turn to watch them as Brenton stands his fists as his sides as he fumes with rage. Thread turns to the side to spit out a few drops of blood before backhands Brenton across the face with the butt of his gun. I try not to react, which would give Thread fuel to his cause, but a small gasp escapes my lips.

Brenton's bent half way down holding his cheek; he begins to stand up when Thread knocks him at the base of his neck with his pistol. Brenton falls to the ground with a thud and I throw myself to the carpet, my knees taking the brunt of the force.

He's lying on his stomach and I help roll him to his back, I reach up and brush his bangs from his forehead. His cheek is already beginning to swell from the hit. We lock eyes, as we both know what may be coming next.

I try to fight back the tears filling my eyes, as he reaches up to push my hair to my back.

His voice is calm and even," All of this is worth it, because I had you with me."

I nod as I memorize his face," Me too."

I can hear Thread blow out a sigh, as he reaches for my arms pulling me off of the ground," That's enough! Come on gorgeous, you're coming with me!"

Something in me snaps and I begin to kick and scratch, I can feel Thread's hands tighten on my petite arms, as he lifts me from the ground to carry me out of Brenton's quarters. I'm thrashing about; my heels make contact with his shins, making him wince.

He shakes me to stop my objection but the adrenaline has begun to surge through my body, and all I want to do it escape him. I'm able to use my right elbow after he releases me; I force it towards his body, to make contact with his ribs.

I fall from his arms, my body hitting the ground hard. I look up from the ground to see Brenton being held into place by a couple of Keepers. They have him standing up; a Keeper is standing behind him with their rifle pressed up against his chest horizontally, the other one has their gun pressed into his ribs.

A streak of blood streaks down his face from his temple, they must have beaten him while I was fighting against Thread. His blue eyes are red rimmed and dark, and I want nothing more than to run over to him and have him hold me. I don't have enough time to watch him, before I'm pulled from the ground by my hair.

My hand goes instinctively to the roots of my hair, as Thread brings me up from the ground to stand. I scratch and pull at his hands but he's stronger than I am, and it's futile for me to fight, as he presses his forearm into my throat almost cutting off my air supply.

My eyes go wide as he drags me from the room, my feet dragging on the carpet. I can see Brenton try to struggle but he's as unable to fight against it as I am. I can hear Brenton scream towards the door, when Thread almost has me out of the room.

"I swear to the spirits Thread if you harm her, I will kill you!"

Thread doesn't react one bit as he drags me into the hall; my nails have scraped his skin raw. My feet bump into something, I have to wait until we pass it to see what it is. Bile rises up my throat and I have to swallow it back down.

His arms are spread out around his body, while his blank eyes stare back at me, a small hole mares the smooth skin of his forehead. I'm able to pull Thread's arm away from my throat long enough to scream his name.

"CINNA!"

The tears have started, and my body goes limp before Thread throws me to the ground, my knees burn from the carpet, and I can feel the bruises forming on my arms and legs. I look behind me, from my position on the ground, to Thread who rubs at the markings on his arms.

"Why?"

Thread rolls up his sleeves higher than they were," He's been a spy for the resistance for years. He got what came to him."

I let out an almost inhuman scream as I push myself from the ground to run at Thread, my fist going towards his jaw. He quickly catches my small hand; I'm shaking all over with rage. He spins me around and pushes me forward telling me to walk. I debate trying to run, but I decide against it.

I need to pick my strategy exit with intelligence and running through a maze of hallways isn't smart. He walk me pass the competitors quarters, I'm assuming he's going to force me into the courtesan quarters, but he has me pass the entry way.

The hallway has turned into stone much like back in the farm; my bare feet are burning from the frigid stones. The sun dress I have on does nothing to block the cold from my skin. I can feel his pistol press against my back, when he stops me in front of a door; he leans over me to bang on it with his other hand.

Shortly after it opens with a high pitched creaking sound, a Keeper holds it open for us to walk through. My bare feet pad on the floor making a slapping sound, a small amount of water pools around my toes.

There's little to no light, but a single bulb hangs from a string above me. It swings side to side taking the light with it, the light source reflects off of a steel chair in the middle of the room. I've heard of this practice before, most of the codes don't survive it.

I can hear Thread clear his throat behind me," Sorry about the water but we had to flush all of the blood and piss out of the room to make it suitable for you."

I turn to run, but he still has his gun trained on me, and a couple of Keepers drag me to the chair. I kick and thrash, my heels beat the cement floor, and every part of me is already bruised and stinging.

"Make sure her hand are good and tied down, I don't want her hurting herself before I have the chance to."

I'm thrown into the chair, my hands and legs are bound with silver wiring, and it cuts into my flesh. I can already feel it burying into my skin. I lean my head forward, and my dark hair serves as a curtain for me, giving me the short time to cry. I can hear boots hit the cement floor, some venturing off while another comes toward me.

"Such a pity for someone so pretty to be hurt so much," from how close he sounds I assume he's hunched down in front of me.

My hair is parted away from my face and forcefully pushed behind me," You got your fight back didn't you? What was it, the Mellark boy? Maybe you should have had a good pounding a long time ago?"

I look up slowly to him, mustering up enough saliva I can spare I spat into his face, causing it to land beside the bridge of his nose. He wipes the spit free, before back handing me across the face. My face snaps to the side, the wires tear into my flesh at the tiniest bit of movement.

"You know I was in love with a courtesan once. I had just gotten out of the academy when I first saw her, I had drawn Capitol duty. I was a Keeper at a council gathering and there she was standing in the corner, wearing a deep blue dress, which hung down her back. Her dark hair pushed to the side, I had never seen someone so beautiful. We carried on an affair for about a year before she was married to a council member, this man stole everything from me, and he made her bare his useless children. He made her less than what she was," he reaches out to caress my cheek, I try to push him off by pressing my cheek to my shoulder," So years later when I had the power to do so, I found her again and ridded her of this man, killing him and two of his sons, the third one gave me this scar. I believe your boyfriend calls him daddy."

This catches my attention and I can do nothing but watch him, as he crouches in front of me. My dress has been pushed up my thigh, showing most of the skin there. He reaches out running a finger up my bare leg, my skin crawls.

"You know you remind me of her."

"Maybe she didn't want you because of you and not because of another man."

He slaps me hard against the same cheek, " You whores are all the same," he stands up rubbing his face, the glint in his eyes back as he looks down at me," You know I remember you, from when you first came here. You were quite the handful, hard to break if I'm correct. Most codes we make into courtesans can't wait to get out of the camp barracks. Knowing they'll have full stomachs, warm showers, a nice place to sleep, but not you. You have all the duties of a courtesan but none of the perks; you make yourself suffer, for what?"

I look up at him with fury," To let you and your son a of a bitch Capitol masters know that even though you violate my body there's always going to be a piece of me you can't have."

"Oh sweetie, we already have all of you."

I smile grimly, as I shake my head," No, you don't. If you did I wouldn't be in this room right now would I?"

"So the boy gives you a good fuck, and you come to life?"

"No, he made me realize how little and insignificant you all are," I'm fuming with anger but I'm finding a strength I had lost a long time ago," That's why she could never really love you, because you have nothing to love!"

I can see I've touched a sore spot, when his face begins to become flustered, as he advances on me. I try to prepare myself for the beating about to come, but it's more than I was prepared for when the first hit almost makes everything go white.

I see spots, as he strikes me again against the other side of my face. The bones of his knuckles collide with the ones in my face and I hear a loud crack and then blinding pain, tears rush down my cheeks, but I bare my nails down to the steel allowing nothing not even a scream to come from my lips.

I'm holding my ground, and I won't give him the satisfaction of breaking me again. I keep playing my time with Brenton through my mind, from the time I first saw him giving the girl the apple, to our first meeting, our kiss, and finally to how he made love to me.

He told me I had saved him in the arena, but now he's saving me, because even if I die in this chair placed in this dark room. I know he's saved me, because I'm leaving this room with strength, and Brenton Mellark gave me mine back.

* * *

10C.

_**Brenton**_

I keep circling the small room; they placed me in to wait for my time to enter the arena. I'm almost like a caged animal by this time, my emotions are running high and I'm afraid my heart may break from my chest.

After Thread took Daria from my quarters, the crowd of Keepers gave me a significant beating before leaving me to lay on the floor barely moving. I had crawled a few inches to the bed, using the edge as support to lift myself up to a standing position. The prep team came in shortly after that, but the usual airy conversations were non -existent, and the one who can't seem to not over step the lines of harassment was all about propriety.

All of them were obviously avoiding eye contact with me, causing me to feel utterly isolated. When I was finally groomed, Flavius silently went over to one of his cases and brought out my armor, he laid it out on the newly made bed. I bent down running my fingers over the newly stitched seems, the blood had been washed off, and my grandfather's mockingjay pin was still in its place.

I looked around the room, waiting to see Cinna stroll in. When I finally questioned the others of his absence, all I received was silence and pained expressions.

I looked to all three as the women began to box up the cleansing products," What? What is it?"

Flavius meets my eye for the first time," He's dead. And we do fancy you young sir, but it's clear that when one becomes company of a Mellark their days are numbered and I am far to fond of breathing," he looks over to the other two and then back to me," With that said we will be taking our leave, I assume you can dress yourself," he turns to leave but stops short when he makes it to the door frame, turning back towards me," Please do not let my own cowardness detract from the pleasure of knowing you. You are truly an admirable young man."

I nod, signifying I understand," Thank you, Flavius."

He walked out of my quarters without a backwards glance, leaving me to prepare myself for the arena. It wasn't long until I was escorted to the stall, by a crowd of Keepers. I was forcefully shoved into the small room, and I've since then been trying to find a way out.

Everything is running through my mind, but more than anything I'm desperate to find Daria. I begin to pound on the door; my hands are raw before it opens slowly.

I'm prepared to be assaulted with a gun barrel, when I see Haymitch's tired eyes instead. I don't know what compels me to do so, but I draw him in a hug. His arms are limp for a second before wrapping his arms around me tightly. The embrace only last a few seconds before I pull away, and give him a slap to the shoulder.

"I was worried about you since everyone else I've been friendly with has turned up beaten or dead."

His face falls, but I'm too preoccupied," Have you seen Daria? Something happened between us, and Thread took her away, I'm in a panic trying to find her-"

"Kid-"

"I don't give a damn about the arena, I just need to find her now-"

His tone is insistent," Kid!"

"What?"

"I tried to stop it, but I couldn't."

"What are you talking about, Haymitch?"

He motions for me to walk through the door and into the tunnel, he steps back providing me with enough room to exit the stall. When I'm standing in the tunnel he points to the far side, close to the arena doors. I look over, and every part of me ceased to exist for a few seconds.

It's almost all in slow motion as she turns toward me, her dark hair pulled tight braided down her back. She's wearing a similar breast plate to mine, but in entirely black paint over silver plating. It registers on her face that she's seen me also and we run toward each other.

It takes entirely too long for me to get my arms around her, our bodies colliding. I bury my face in her hair as she presses hers against my collar bone; her nails scrape against my skin as she holds onto my back tightly. I rest my hands at the nape of neck and just below the leather scraping of her armor.

I pull away from her begrudgingly, to frame her face with my hands. Her face is clear of any makeup, which makes it easy for me to see the bruising marring her skin. I turn her face to each side so I can examine the damage, my thumbs gently tracing the bruise patterns.

"Daria-"

She reaches up covering my hands with hers," It's not so bad. The prep team healed my broken cheek bone, but I refused to let them put a mess of product on my face. I told them if I was going to die I wanted to look like myself, and not something the Capitol had made."

I pull her face towards mine," You're not going to die."

She leans up to place a chaste kiss against my lips, before she pulls my hands from her face. Her green eyes are kind, but I can recognize the seriousness of the situation.

"Brenton, I'm not as skilled as most of the competitors. I know my chances-"

I cut her off quickly," No!"

I turn from her to walk back towards Haymitch, who waits beside the stall. He tries to avoid my eye contact, as I stop in front of him.

His head is still hung down as he speaks," I tried to stop it, but I just couldn't."

I place my hand on his shoulder, as he looks up at me," Tell my mom, that I'm sorry I disappointed her, I wish I could have been the son she deserved, and tell Peeta," I take a deep breath before lowering my arm and looking to the ground," tell my dad that I was wrong about him, that I'm beginning to understand the reasons why he couldn't be in my life, and that I'm proud to be his son."

"Kid you're starting to sound like you're not expecting to leave the arena alive."

"Haymitch we both know there can only be one Vanquisher at the end. I'm not going to let what happened to Carr happen to her, I won't survive it."

"Have you ever thought of what this will do to her?"

"I just want her alive, so I don't care what you have to do, even if it's burning the whole place down, you make sure she leaves alive, if I'm already gone."

"Kid-"

"One more thing…you're a good man Haymitch Abernathy, even if you can't see it now," I hold out my hand waiting for him to shake it, he takes it," Thank you for everything."

He nods before I release his hand and turn towards Daria who has walked up behind me. I grab her tightly bringing her to me for one last hug before I pull away, holding her by the shoulders.

"I don't want you to worry about me-"

She shakes her head," Brenton-"

"I want you to attack and never stop attacking, if you're worried about me it'll get you hurt or worse."

"I don't care-"

"But I do!"

"What would I attack with?"

Haymitch must have walked to the stall closest to the arena doors, because he now holds onto a silver trident.

"You're from the fishing district right?"

Daria turns around her eyes fascinated on the weapon," Yes but I've never handled a trident of such magnitude."

"Girl I've seen you use a spear at the training area, just recalculate the weight a bit," he hands the trident to her," think of the others as fish."

"Fish?"

I turn her around slowly as her hands grasp the weapon," I want you to bury that thing in the first chest you see, and don't stop-"

"Attacking," she reaches her free hand up to my cheek," I know."

Haymitch walks around us, I assume to get me my bow, as I lean into her touch, my eyes closing. I have to fight back the grief and tears that are rising up through my body.

"You're here because of me. If had just left you be, this would never have happened to you."

I can hear the trident hit the ground as the other side of my face becomes warm from her touch; I open my eyes to see her vibrant green ones.

"I would rather fight at your side and die than go on living while my body is used for others' interests," I can see the tears shine in her eyes, as she smiles faintly," You've given me a gift, you made me want to fight for something again. We love each other, and nothing not even death can erase it."

I nod, as I reach out to brush her face gently, before I reach at my heart where the pin lies. Her hands leave my face as I fiddle with the latch, eventually I grasp it in my palm, holding onto it tight before I begin to pin it to her armor. Daria shakes her head while trying to push my hand away.

"No, I can't-"

I ignore her," This was my grandfathers, it's brought me luck, I want you to have it."

She allows me to pin it to the leather strap, it catches at the camisole she has under her breast plate. Haymitch comes up behind us, clearing his throat, my bow and quiver full of arrows in his hands. I turn to him and take them gratefully.

"Thanks old man."

He smirks," You're welcome, kid," he leans towards me," I know your father would be very proud of you. And if you hold on long enough, he can tell you."

This catches me by surprise, my eyes wide, he merely nods confirming my suspicions. I look over his head to see a Keeper coming up from the rear. I know it's time, and my stomach drops.

"Haymitch remember what I said, I don't care what you have to do-"

"I promise, kid."

I nod and turn back to Daria; she takes my hand as we walk up to the arena doors. Her trident is firmly grasped in her hand, while the other squeezes my fingers. She looks up the full length of the doors, and I can feel her body tremor.

"I had a dream about these doors, you and I were standing in front of them, and blood started to rain down-"

"It was just a dream."

She looks to me," Was it really?"

"Remember what I told you, don't stop attacking."

"I love you Brenton."

I grit my teeth to stop the tears," I love you too."

The doors open wide, we don't wait to be pushed through by a Keeper, our hands are still joined when we walk into the arena. The crowds have been placed by clear sky as per usual, and I can hear the hum of the speakers being turned on, the announcer's voice will soon follow.

I lead us into the middle of the arena. My palms are already perspiring, and I can feel Daria's fingers fidget with in mine. She lets go of my hand to turn, I look to her as she now stands directly in front of me. Her face is serious and stern, which makes her greens eyes shine.

"I'm over this bull shit idea you have about keeping me alive. You are not going to sacrifice yourself for me."

"Daria-"

"No, damn it!"

"We are going to go through this as a team, you and me together."

"Why-"

"We protect each other, it's what we do."

I grab her face quickly to give her a deep kiss, I rest my forehead against hers when it's over," You are the most stubborn woman," she gives me a long sigh," But it's why I love you."

"I know."

"But there's still the question of two remaining competitors, you know what happened to Carr."

"We'll deal with it when it comes."

I shake my head, releasing her face, as the announcer's voice comes over the arena.

"_Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a special show for you tonight! The Boy on Fire, Brenton Mellark, will have to go up against the mighty Blood Head, Serkan! But that's not all; we are pleased to introduce the lovely Lady of the Water, Daria Odair! These two lovers will have to fight till the bloody end against grizzly odds!"_

Daria turns to me," I don't have a last name, and it's not Odair. But when I did it was Cresta."

"Maybe they found it for you."

"_Let the Vanquisher games begin!"_

I bring my bow over my head ,placing it in front of me, before I reach back for an arrow from my quiver, securing the arrow firmly at the nock. I glance over to Daria who is gripping her trident with such force her knuckles have become white.

"Don't hold it so tight, you won't have as much control over this," I look over to her," obvious reasons put aside, like not wanting the girl I love having to fight for her life, there's no one else I think is capable enough to survive this, no one else I would want by my side. Just give them the shit you gave me in the training area before my first battle, hell give them the shit you've been giving me the entire time."

She nods and I see the color coming back into her fingers. I breathe out slowly through my mouth as the metal landings begin to rise, the side begins to separate and I rise my bow up in front of me. Daria follows suit taking her own stance, and I'm acutely aware that this will be my toughest test of wills.

I circle my body around her, until she turns and our backs are up against the others. Her braid rubs against my bare back, and I have to push the dread of having her next to me in the arena away. The lifts stop and we are now surrounded by six other competitors, I search for Serkan.

I finally find him dressed in entirely black, he has a similar plate of armor as I do, but the dark colors bleach his skin out. A sword is clutched in his fist, while his eyes are set on me. I'm quite aware the entirety of my time during the battle will be against him, but I can't set Daria against five heavily armed men, even if she is quite capable.

The gong sounds and with a speed I wasn't aware of I turn to my left releasing an arrow, allowing it to bury itself in the eye socket of the competitor closest to me. I open my mouth to speak, demanding Daria find a target, when I hear a loud thud and a large blonde competitor is five feet from me on his back, her trident protruding from his chest.

I glance to her, but she's already running to where the bleeding man lies.

"I got this Brenton, just take care of Serkan!"

I watched her run over and pull the trident free, her arm rising up as a career advances on her. She brings the trident across his face, a large gash forming as she rotates her shoulder, shoving the sharp blades up the base of their jaw.

She's fierce and accurate and in that moment I feel foolish for doubting her. I turn to see Serkan rushing towards me with another career following his lead; I reach back into my quiver pulling out an arrow. I take my stance and breathe in deeply waiting for my chance, when I feel the time is right I release.

The career behind Serkan goes flying back as the arrow lands and severs an artery in his neck, blood flies into the air of dust from the sand and heat. Serkan looks back behind him to find the boy clutching his throat as blood slips around his fingers. I can see the confusion on his face when I lower my bow.

"I'd rather it be between us," I throw my bow down and slip off my quiver; it finds itself beside the bow," An arrow is too humane for you."

I sneer at me, his sword pointed towards me," What a colossally stupid mistake you've just made."

I hunch down still watching him, my hand feeling the sand for the sword one of the dead competitors dropped," Maybe, but I want to try my luck."

He's rushing towards, I land on my knees frantically searching for the sword when I finally find it, grabbing hold up the handle before I raise it up to block Serkan from slitting my throat. He rears back and kicks me in the gut sending me back, but I roll back on my feet at a standing position.

We circle each other sizing up the other, I'm attempted to search for Daria but I know have to trust her. Serkan advances on me once again, he invades my space, the steel of his sword collides with mine, and we exchange hits until I'm able to slash him across the face, which sets him off guard giving me enough time to strike him across the other side with the hilt.

I make contact but I leave myself open as he slashes me at the side. I wince dropping my sword as he thrusts the blade towards my gut, I'm able to move out of the way, grabbing his arm at the elbow to snap it back, he screams out in pain, before head butting me.

I'm sent back with force, landing on my back. I roll onto my side; sand mixed with sweat stings my wound, as my hands sift through the blood and dirt. I'm unable to find it, I reach for my waist where my blade would be, but I remember that Cinna was the one to always fit them in. Serkan's shadow is raised over me, I know he's about to attack.

I search the arena for Daria, wanting one last time to watch her, but instead I catch the glint of light coming from my bow. I stand to run for it, but Serkan kicks me back to the ground. I groan, as I roll back over. He's standing over me with his sword raised, his other arm lying limp to his side.

Everything goes into slow motion, I'm prepared to see the faces of everyone I've ever known and loved but the only one in my mind is Daria. Long wavy dark hair wrapping around golden skin and deep green eyes with gold. Serkan pulls his sword back ready to attack, behind me I can hear Daria scream my name and I'm glad she's still alive. I'm ready to feel the assault, when the wall of the arena on the far side explodes, dust and screams are heard as the veil of sky is breaking into a million pieces.

And then Haymitch's last message to me makes sense, because all I had to do was hold on long enough. Because I know now this is when the real testament of my faith and strength begins. This is the real battle.

* * *

**A/N: One last chapter and then it's the end of the story. Please Review!**


	11. Chapter 11

_****This is the last chapter! I hope everyone who pressed forward, through this incredibly long story will be pleased. I know that I had a blast writing it._

Rated Adult for Language, Violence, Character Death.

**11A.**

The arena shakes, a deep moan coming from the ancient structure, another series of explosions sounds, as bursts of flames collide with the atmosphere. Hysterical Capitol citizens can be heard from where he's laying on the ground, sand and blood coats his muscular body.

Serkan has been distracted by the spectacle, which gives Brenton enough time to scramble for his bow a few feet away. His nails encrusted with dirt and dried blood scratch and search in the discarded quiver for an arrow. His battered hand finally feels the silver feathers; his fingers tighten around it to draw it out.

Skillfully he places the arrow at the nock and draws the string back, the bow an extension of his own body. He stands up with steady legs, which is a feat seeing how the wound at his side has begun to bleed profusely. Serkan turns back to where Brenton had been laying defensively; his eyes frantically search the ground.

Brenton gives a low whistle from where he stands at Serkan's side. The other boy, the one with the vengeful and wicked spirit, only gets half through his next breath before an arrow is lodged through his throat.

He drops to his knees, his fingers scrambling for the arrow, but it's not long until he drops to the ground, his arms splayed out around him, before the light in his eyes dims and goes out for good. Brenton keeps his stance until he's positive the other boy won't be fighting back.

Then reality hits him with a force, as the pain in his side intensifies, and the walls of the arena fall. Brenton slips the bow over his head, before bending over to pick up the quiver and doing the same with it. He hears Daria calling his name once again, and he turns, trying to run to her, he limps because of his wound, but he tries to push the pain back, wanting to only concentrate on her.

Some of her dark hair had escaped her braid, as the strands frame her face. Brenton can see a path of blood running down the side of her face; she gives him a small smile before running towards him. Their bodies collide; his hands cradle the back of her neck, as her hands go to the straps at his chest, holding onto him tightly.

Brenton kisses her hard on the mouth, causing Daria to reciprocate. The both of them kiss and embrace the other as the world falls around them, but for those few seconds it's a victory that the both of them are alive so far. Brenton pulls away from her, breaking the kiss.

"You listened to me for once," he moves his hands to her cheeks brushing her hair out of her face, a few pieces are stuck to the dried blood at the side of her face," You did well."

She nods, her green eyes grim," It's not over yet."

"I know," Brenton looks around them for an exit, when he sees a large piece has been blow away from the explosions, he turns back to her his hands still clung to her and hers to him," I'm going to go find Thread and Snow," Daria tries to argue but he cuts her off before she can speak," I need you to get the other codes out. You and I both know what will be the first agenda Thread will have with everything going to hell."

"Alright, but be careful," Brenton nods before he releases her to exit the arena, with her hands still at his armor she pulls him back down for another kiss before releasing him," I love you."

He searches her face one last time," I love you too."

Daria watches as he runs out of the arena, after he's out of her sight she runs back to where she had dropped her trident. She reaches down picking up the weapon, tossing it up and down in her hand, feeling the weight again. Her other hand goes to the mockingjay pin at her chest; her fingers traced the outline before exiting the arena herself.

* * *

11B

The ground shakes underneath their feet, as ancient stones in aerosol form surround the space of air around them. Peeta's the first one to stand up from his hunched down position, his hand still grasping Katniss' arm out of reflex, as she's forced to stand with him. With Finnick's hold on his trident, he tilts his head up to Peeta, narrowing his eyes through the grim. Peeta looks up as he smiles to himself, before he breathes in deeply coughing afterwards. He waves his free hand in the air, trying to clear some of the residue in the space before him.

"Looks like I haven't lost my touch."

Katniss rolls her eyes as she removes Peeta's hand from her arm," Yes, and it's lucky for us you were so meticulous about recalculating the numbers, or all three of us would have been a part of the explosion."

Finnick rights himself, as he clears his black light weight jacket of dust," And that's bad…being blown up."

Peeta turns to the other man," It wasn't that close."

Finnick raises a brow," Really?"

Katniss steps in between them," Boys is this really the time to be in a pissing contest about pyrotechnics? If you remember we still have our children down there, still in the arena. You know it's that place we just blew a hole in the side of?"

Peeta nods as Finnick rounds Katniss to stand on the other side of her," First priority, we need to start evacuating the codes-"

Finnick shakes his head," No, Peeta-"

Peeta cuts him short," Finnick, you know as well as I do what Snow's first exit strategy is. We've both seen what happens when he's nervous, and what we just did I'm positive has pushed him so far past nervous."

"Your son, my daughter… my daughter is down there, and I have no idea what she looks like, except for a far away shot from the arena, it wasn't clear enough-"

Katniss places a hand on his shoulder," We know her name."

Finnick nods looking to her with gratitude," Daria."

Katniss smiles faintly," Yes, Daria."

"Yes, but she needs me! She's down there, we cut the feed before I knew if she survived-"

Peeta stops him," Our children were strong enough to survive this long, we need to have faith in them that they can hold on a little longer," Peeta's voice become quiet," I can't do this without you."

Finnick swallows before looking back to Peeta," Alright, what do you need me to do?"

The side of his mouth rises a bit before falling," I need you to lead the others, and by what we know about Keeper tactics they'll be trying to protect and surround the perimeter-"

Katniss steps in closer," There's not much of a perimeter left."

Peeta looks to her," True, but they're trained to go down with the ship, they won't let go without a fight," he turns back to Finnick," I need you to make sure our exit strategy goes as planned," Peeta can sense Finnick's resistance," I promise we'll find her."

Finnick nods as he stares at the ground," Ok," he turns to walk as Peeta brings him in a hug, patting his back, before breaking the embrace," It's been an honor."

Without any word Finnick runs to the edge and scales down the dilapidated wall with ease, the bottom of his trident controlling the speed. Katniss watches him before she can longer see him; she turns back to Peeta, who has now begun to pull a rifle from the bag, pulling the strap over his head.

She hunches down, unzipping the bag beside her. Her dark hair falls around her as she pulls out her bow and a quiver; she flips her hair to her back before pulling the strap of the quiver over her head. She stands up turning to scale the wall down towards where she knows the arena to be.

Before she can reach the edge, she's pulled back by a strong hand. She flinches for a second before looking to Peeta, whose jaw is set and flexing.

"What?"

His eyes are sad but serious," You can't go-"

"What?"

"I need you to get the codes out-"

Katniss shakes her head violently as she tries to pull from his grasp," No, absolutely not! My son is down there somewhere! You will not manage me they way you do everyone else Peeta Mellark!"

He turns her around fully to face him as he takes her by both her arms," I need you to make sure the other children are safe. They don't have anyone fighting for them, Katniss! They need you to, the way you wish someone would have for Prim."

Katniss struggles underneath his touch," That's not fair, for you to put me in the middle of deciding between my own child and the memory of my dead sister."

"I don't want to make you choose, but you know these tunnels and layouts better than anyone. You're their best chance."

"But, Brenton-"

"I will find him, I promise. I will find our son."

She grabs hold of his shirt, her free hand balls the black fabric there," You're going after Snow too, aren't you?"

He doesn't answer her, but watches her closely for a few seconds before kissing her. Their mouths remain closed, but the passion isn't wavering as he breaks the kiss laying his forehead against hers.

"I love you, Katniss Everdeen, and I will marry you very soon."

"You're only making promises like that because you're positive you won't survive."

He lets out a haunted laugh," Look she's funny."

Katniss pulls back, shaking the fabric in her hand," All joking aside. You come back to me, with our son."

Peeta moves his hands up her arms to her face," Don't we always find each other."

Katniss nods as she closes her eyes, the feel of Peeta's warm mouth is pressed against hers, and she leans into it, trying to memorize every touch. It's not long until his hands and lips leave her, standing alone in the middle of ruins.

When she opens her eyes, she's alone once again in the place she vowed to never return to. Katniss breathes in deeply before scaling the wall down to where she knew the barracks to be. Everything in her wants to defy Peeta and search for her son, but she knows that in the scheme of things there's a greater plan weaving its way through their lives.

* * *

11C

The wound at his side has started to pulse, as the pain intensifies with every cough he releases. He had ripped a piece of curtain free to fashion it into a tourniquet, which helped slow the bleeding down but he's begging to feel it in his body, that he may not have much more time left.

Brenton tries to breathe as he presses his back into the wall, hugging it tightly as gunfire goes off around him. After he had left Daria in the arena he had made his way back to where he knew the official offices and quarters were.

His body was becoming weak but his mind was still strong and he knew he had to find someone in particular, even if he meant most likely losing his own life he would bring Thread down along with him. He risked a glace around the corner, as anarchy rose around him.

The halls were already crowded with bodies of the dead, Keepers, Capitol citizens and codes found their resting places on the same blood stained carpet, proving we are all equal in deaths eyes. Brenton begins to push himself off of the wall, as he can hear oncoming voices.

"Keep the perimeter closed as long as possible, I don't care if you have to throw codes in front of their bullets, I want it all secure for Elective Snow's escape."

"Sir, we're giving up to the rebels?"

Brenton hears only silence until the low cracking of bones is heard, right before the thud of a limp body hits the floor. Thread's voice fills the hallway again, his tone indifferent.

"Never question me…never."

Brenton swallows before reaching into his quiver and taking out his last arrow. He breathes in slowly through his nose before breathing out through his mouth. The pain at his side has risen up through his entire side, and it has caused his arm to feel like lead.

He pushes everything else down; his pain and fear are secondary to his need for vengeance. Brenton forces himself off of the wall, and rounds the corner; his stance is at ready, as his hand grasps the grip. Everything is sharp and at a slower pace than reality when he spots Thread behind a wall of Keepers. The back of his neck is clear, as Brenton brings the string back, the arrow secured at the nock.

His fingers begin to release when at the last moment one of the Keepers turns, alerting Thread to Brenton's presence. Instead of piercing the intended target, Brenton is forced to move the bow slightly to the left, sending the arrow to the Keeper.

The arrow buries itself into the base of his throat, the force sending his body down with the other deceased. For a split second Brenton and Thread stare the other down, it's clear to the older man what the younger one has come for. He's come for blood, and he intends to collect.

The time of stillness doesn't last long until, Brenton's being fired upon, he dives back behind the wall, his body hunched down. He curses to himself for being so rash, he should have been more careful, because now his bow is no longer useful without arrows.

Which means he has to come up to Thread close and personal, he almost has to laugh to himself at how history has repeated, however this time it'll be another Mellark to make Thread bleed. Brenton reaches down searching the bodies of the Keepers around him, he tries to ignore the blood drenched clothing and half missing faces.

He's lucky enough to find rifles still filled with ammunition and a couple of blades, the irony of using weapons which had terrorized him once but who now could save him, is not lost. Brenton slips the one of the blades into his waist slot, while bringing the strap of the rifle over his head. The fatigue of the day and his wound causes him to teeter a bit as he reaches out to the wall bracing himself.

He shakes his head clearing it as he reaches down for the blade lying on the ground. He grits his teeth as he takes a running start rolling into the hallway, to land hunched down, his feet planted perfectly, as he releases the blade it landing into the throat of one of the Keepers.

Without thinking he falls to his stomach, raising the rifle up to shoot, a barrage of bullets flies past him as he fires off his own. The few Keepers left by Thread to kill him are on the floor, screaming in pain. Brenton closes his eyes before firing into the group until, there's only silence.

It isn't until he goes to stand he notices the pain coming from the bicep of his left arm. He's a bit queasy when he makes it to his feet. The amount of blood he's been losing has caused him to shake, he once again pushes everything back as he steps over the bodies littering the once brightly decorated hallway. He checks the rifle for ammunition but it comes out empty.

He brings the rifle strap over his head wincing; the gun is discarded, clanking to the floor as it flips on its side. Brenton moves his hand over to his gunshot wound, his fingers coming back with a minimal amount of blood.

The bullet must have grazed him, he's thankful for at least that much. He reaches down to his waist bringing the blade out, the glint of the knife shining under the rattling lights above. His pace is controlled and steady as he makes his way to the small door which leads to Thread's quarters.

Brenton rears back kicking the door in, the shards of wood fall to the floor. Brenton walks in stepping on the pieces of door, the room is simpler than he would have assumed.

Thread turns around, his face isn't the least bit surprised to see the boy. He looks down to Brenton's hand as blood and sweat grip the handle. Thread throws down the bag he's been packing to walk to the center of the room which only consists of a bed and nothing else. The older man shakes his head, a smile on his face and his scar deep in the muted light.

"I have to say I am impressed by you," he begins to circle Brenton as the boy does the same," Most of the Mellark men are soft politicians at heart, but not you. You have a drive that none of them ever had, there is something truly remarkable about your ability to survive."

"Are you trying to compliment me?"

"I'm only trying to have you understand."

"What that you killed my friend?"

"Boy, I've killed a lot of people, and your stupid code friend is at the bottom of the list of the people close to you , who have ate a bullet from me" Thread stops circling as he rises a brow," Is that why you're here to avenged someone you knew for a few short weeks?"

Brenton stops as he shakes his head," No, I'm here to keep a promise. I told you after you killed those girls in the courtyard that I would finish what Peeta started."

Thread begins to laugh," Do you really think you can beat me? DO YOU?"

Brenton calmly shrugs," There's only one way to find out."

Thread brings a blade from behind his back, his arm outstretched ready to attack. Brenton can feel the tension rise up around him, he's on the cusp of jumping off, how this ends will dictate the rest of his life. Be it the next ten minutes or years, everything is riding on how focused and brutal he can truly be.

It almost doesn't register for him when Thread finally invades his personal space, it's a blur, and the stinging sensation from the cut against his cheek is the reminder. He can feel the warmth of the blood fall down to his jaw line. Thread steps back rising his blade out towards the younger boy.

"That was a warning; the next one won't be as kind."

Brenton reaches up wiping the blood from his jaw, before he brings his fingers up in front of his eyes. The blood is bright and already dried, signifying a superficial wound.

As he watches his fingers stained with the newly drawn blood, something begins to change, he no longer feels the anxiety from before, or even the pain from his preexisting wounds. Brenton lowers his hand to his side as he looks up into the dark eyes of the man before him.

"I guarantee it."

Thread's expression becomes dire when the dark hair boy lunges at him, his blade thrusting towards the older man's throat. Thread easily blocks it, but his victory is short lived when Brenton rotates his wrist and elbow, and with a guttural scream, allowing the blade contact against Thread's cheek. The cut is deep, ensuring a scar will appear.

The shock on Thread's face is apparent, as the blood begins to flow down his cheek. Both men slash and thrust their blades at the other's body, the proximity is both a blessing and a curse, which enables each man the opportunity to easily block, but also gives the other's blade easy access to others flesh.

Brenton catches the older man's shoulder, his blade sinking in deep, however, the hilt is in too thick, which gives Thread the opportunity to head butt him, his shoulder sinking. The older man rears back backhanding the boy, his hand releasing from the handle, it isn't long before Thread's boot makes contact with the boy's ribs sending him across the room.

His body flies through the air until he's eventually stopped by the brass frame of the bed. The metal is unrelenting, as the force of the impact reverberates through his body, he scrambles to his feet, but Thread is already standing over him.

Brenton looks up slowly to the vicious man, his body is riddled with cuts, his skin coated in blood and sweat, Brenton has to assume he looks the same.

Thread reaches for the handle of the blade pulling it out slowly as he winces in pain, when it's finally free, the tip dripping with blood, his fingers uncurl form the handle, the knife falling to the cold floor with a clatter.

"I have to hand it to you kid, you are good, hell maybe even better than your father," Thread move his hand over the gaping wound at his shoulder, the fabric there has become dark with blood pooling there," but I'm better."

Thread raises his blade up to attack, everything is in slow motion, as Brenton sweeps his leg under Thread's sending the man to the floor hard, his knife flying from his grasp as the impact of the hit, sends his limps in separate directions.

Brenton doesn't hesitate as he reaches for his discarded blade, before jumping onto the body of a stunned Thread. His battered arms rise up, plunging the blade into the older man's chest, piercing his heart. The air in Thread's lungs escapes as his eyes widen, Brenton bears down again and again, twisting the blade until Thread's spasms cease and everything goes still.

Brenton's almost in a daze as he releases the handle, staring down into Thread's blank expression. He reaches down pulling the blade free, before he scoots off of the man's body, while still hunched down back peddling into the nearest wall.

His back hits the wall with force, the blade falling from his fingers. He brings his knees to his chest as he buries his head to his legs.

The building begins to shake around him and he can hear gun shots in the background, he knows nothing will be the same, and he's afraid he may be damned.

* * *

11D

The corridor of the entire camp was in full pandemonium, before Katniss was even able to reach the barracks. The construction and remodeling done after she had escaped was more extensive than she has previously assumed. Most of the children, the ones who hadn't run out into the courtyard to be slaughtered by waiting Keepers, were ducked down and hiding underneath their beds completely petrified.

Katniss had frightened most of them as she broke down the door, her bow ready to fire. Most seemed mute and unconvinced of her wanting to help, until she rose up her sleeve showing her own brand. It wasn't long until she was seen as their equal and ally.

A few of the older codes had helped to organize the smaller children, something she was grateful of when considering she was the lone adult trying to evacuate nearly a hundred scared and frantic codes.

She hugged the wall, her bow down by her side, as she looked around the corner, evaluating the north hallway, wanting to be positive that it was clear to move the children forward. She could hear gunfire from off, but it still set her on guard.

Bodies covered most of the stones of the corridor, most of the structure had already fallen to the ground, and dust hung in the air. She used the back of her hand to wipe the sweat from her brow; her dark hair clung to the sides of her neck, as the salt of perspiration fell to her lips.

When she was positive it was safe she waved on the first group of codes to run down the hallway.

"Go," she reached out to grab the arm of one of the older boys," stop when you get around the corner and wait for me," Katniss bent down picking up a discarded rifle, forcing it into the red headed boys arms," use this only if it's needed," the boy nodded she could see the fear in his eyes," they're your responsibility now…protect them."

The boy led the younger children down the hall, Katniss watched as he stopped midway waiting for the last child to pass him before he followed the crowd. She waited for another three groups to round the corners, before walking into the hall herself.

The sound of boots, stopped her, she turned quickly dropping to one knee, the other bent with her footing solid. With her bow at the ready she breathed in slowly releasing the breath in time with her arrow, as a couple of bloodied Keepers entered the hallway, their rifles firing. The arrow split through the air finding its home, in the right eye of one of the Keepers. His worn body fell to the ground with the rest of the lost, his firearm still grasped with his grip.

Katniss reached back into her quiver for another arrow, swiftly nocking the arrow, as the bullet of the Keeper flew past her. She drew back, releasing the arrow, but not before a bullet pierced her thigh. The Keeper flew back as the arrow buried into his jugular. Katniss fell to the floor, her bow hitting the ground hard, as she held onto her leg, the pain flooding her head. Blood rushed out around and over her fingers, she took her free hand, planting it firmly to the ground to give herself enough leverage to hoist her body off of the floor.

It wasn't until she could hear the heavy breathing that she noticed the presence of another person. Katniss looked over to her right to see a Keeper approaching, she let go of her leg which made her wince in pain to grab a hold of her bow, but her accuracy wouldn't be as sharp and she knew she was slower now that she was injured.

Katniss closed her eyes as she heard the click of the gun ring through her ears, she waited for the final blow, but when nothing happened she opened her eyes, griping her bow. She looked over to where she assumed the Keeper would be ready to fir on her, but what she saw shocked her.

The firearm fell from the Keeper's hand as a three pointed blade, jutted out of his chest, his back bent at the spine. Katniss recognized the blades as part of a trident, she tried to look around the Keeper to thank Finnick for saving her life, but instead she spotted a dark haired girl, her petite body behind the dead Keeper as she rose her foot up to push the corpse from her weapon.

The Keeper's body fell to its knees before falling face first into a pool of blood. The girl glanced over to the body before locking eyes with Katniss, her face was covered with sweat and dried blood, and her body was flushed and covered in bruises and cuts.

Her dark hair had come out of her braid which now fell in front of her, but even with her appearance, Katniss could see the kindness in her eyes. The girl ran over to Katniss dropping to her knees, she released her trident, laying it to the ground.

She looked down to Katniss's leg, before turning to tear a piece of fabric from a nearby corpse of a Capitol citizen. Katniss watched as she ripped the fabric free, she was impressed by how calm the girl seemed.

The girl turned back to Katniss, her hands moving to her wounded leg," This will help the bleeding," the dark haired girl wrapped the fabric around Katniss' leg," I know it's not ideal but it should hold until we can get you some help."

Katniss grabs a hold of her arm before she can fully sit up," Why are you helping me?"

The girl sits up her hands on her knees," I saw you helping the codes, plus you have something about the way your eyes are that remind me of someone."

Katniss nods, about to release the girl before she notices the pin on her armor, the shine has been faded by the dried blood but the mockingjay is as noticeable as ever.

Katniss lightly shakes the girl's arm," Where did you get that?"

The girl follows her eyes," The pin," Katniss nods her grip tightening as the girl's eyes become sad," The boy I love gave it to me-"

Katniss moves to face the girl, the pain in her leg being heard she grabs the girl by her other arm, her gaze serious," Brenton gave it to you?"

The girl seems afraid by Katniss' behavior but she nods slowly," Yes."

"Where is he is? Is he ok?"

"I don't know. Why would you be concern?"

"Because he's my son."

The girl smiles faintly," I'm Daria."

Katniss returns the smile," I know your father."

Daria doesn't question her, as she helps her to her feet, Katniss' bow secured in her hand as Daria's trident is grasped in hers, and she helps Katniss down the hallway and around the corner as the codes wait for further instructions.

The children are huddled together, but keep together. Katniss looks to Daria as the younger woman leans her against her, keeping her arm around her side to help her walk.

"Let's get these kids out of here. The exit is about a hundred yards up."

Daria nodded as they began to move out, the women and an older code boy bringing up the rear.

* * *

11E

The walk down the tapestry decorated hallway was made in a haze, after he had left Thread's quarters, his lifeless beaten body on the floor. The sounds of screaming and gun fire had begun to ebb, Brenton assumed everyone was most likely already dead or had escaped. After he had entered the hallway he had bent down to pick up a firearm from beside a deceased Keeper, his fingers were still pressed against the grip, before Brenton had to curl each one away.

He was surrounded by death, it threatened to drag him down into a dark existence, and the surprising thing was that he was almost expecting to be lost in it. He had to navigate the hallway without stepping on the corpses, the tall massive wooden doors, were a few feet from him.

He raised the pistol in front of him, preparing himself for a fight; seeing there was real possibility there would be an armed Keeper inside. Brenton reared back, before forcing his boot to kick the door open, the doors flew open, the deep whining sound feeling the air.

Without hesitation, Brenton aimed his gun to the single Keeper, shooting him between the eyes. He hadn't had a chance to press the trigger before his body hit the ground. The aroma of flowers and blood filled the room, and for once Brenton was too numb to be taken over by the stench.

His eyes were haunted and dark, with deep cuts marring his skin. The wound at his side had begun to seep again, but thankfully the bullet wound at his arm had remained painless. The dark haired boy searched the room for the older man; Brenton rounded the desk his pistol still raised, as he found the official hunched beside the desk.

Brenton motioned for the man to stand," Get up, and keep your hands visible!"

Snow raised his hands as he stood," You're not going to shoot me, boy."

Brenton kept his arm raised but exhaustion began to weigh him down, his hand shaking," Oh, really?"

"Yes, because I understand you. You're smart you wouldn't do something so rash-"

"You know nothing about me!"

"I know of your resilience, you are the perfect product of this institution."

"Excuse me?"

"You are proof of what can be made. You have become something more than the son of someone infamous, you are a skilled killer. You are what can come from pushing someone to their limits. They either break or ascend. And you my boy have become something greater than what you were."

"I don't revel in taking someone's life."

Snow kept his hands up as he walked closer to Brenton, his gun still trained at the man's chest," Is that so? I seem to remember the damage you did to Keeper Cray, not that I blame you, even I thought he was a letch. But what about Lucious Thread? I'm assuming sense you were able to be here now, you much have killed him. The state your body is in tells that much, so if you were able to survive and defeat him, you must have a brutality with in you."

"Why are you so sure I won't shoot you?"

"I'm not, but if you do, it'll just prove me right."

Brenton raises his arm moving the barrel of the gun to Snow's temple," I wouldn't want you to be disappointed-"

"Son?"

Brenton turns his head to see a medium built man with broad shoulders, and piercing blue eyes, the same ones he's seen in the mirror for sixteen years. Peeta stands at the boy's side, reaching up to lower the barrel of the gun.

"This isn't the way-"

Brenton pulls the gun down as he turns towards Peeta, his eyes furious," What do you know, you've been trying to kill him for years?"

Peeta nods his short bangs stick to the sweat at his forehead," I know, but this is not a road I want you to go down. You can lose yourself in it."

Tears begin to rush down his battered face as he looks to his father," I don't know what to do."

Peeta holds his hand out, palm facing upwards," Trust me, give me the gun."

Brenton's body shakes as he sighs, his hand bringing the pistol to lie in Peeta's hand. His fingers remain curled over the grip, before he finally releases it, stepping back. Peeta nods his approval to Brenton as the boy runs his hands through his grimy hair.

Snow clicks his tongue disapprovingly," I thought you had more to you, Brenton. I suppose you're as soft as the other Mellarks."

Peeta turned towards Snow, the older man had lowered his hands," Don't ever talk to my son."

"I try to make him into something more-"

"You tried to twist and fade what makes him better than what you are, what I've let myself be. What my own father had wished for me, and I let you do that to me."

Snow glared at Peeta," You're father was misled, he needed to be shown what happens to traitors."

"My father saw past all the shine and hubris of the Capitol, he was a good man," Peeta stepped in front of Brenton leaving a few feet in between he and Snow," I know you were the one to order the kill on my family. Thread's the one who carried it out, he pulled the trigger, but you used his grief and vengeance against him. You're the real master of it all," Peeta looked down before smiling briefly, turning to look at Brenton behind him and back to Snow," But not anymore, all you are now is a scared old man hunching down beside his desk."

"How long am I to be alive?"

"Oh, death is too easy for you," Peeta leans in towards Snow his voice low and quiet," I think you should witness the world you created."

Snow's face falls and for the first time, Brenton can see him sweat, and he realizes just how small the official really looks. Peeta stands up, giving out a low whistle, before a group of people dressed in the same black t-shirt and pants of his father come through the doors. They take their positions beside Snow, one at each side of him grabbing his arms.

Peeta motions to a large man with silver hair," Boggs, put him somewhere secure, we wouldn't want someone to harm him before he can be sentenced."

The man nods as he and a dark haired woman drag the older man out of the office. Brenton watches him go, and he feels a weight being lifted from his shoulders. Quickly he's being pulled into a hug, his head lays at Peeta's shoulder as the older man holds onto him tightly, as his arms hang by his sides.

Peeta pats his back," Hi, son."

Brenton smiles faintly, the intensity of his wounds filling his head," Hi."

Brenton pulls from him," You aren't what I pictured."

Peeta nods, as he smiles," You are though, you look like your mother."

"That's funny because most people say I look like you."

Peeta nods," That you do."

Brenton breathes in deeply before he turns to go, Peeta's hand grabs his arm," Where are you going?"

"There's someone I have to find."

"I'll help you."

Brenton turns to walk out of the door before he stops to turn to Peeta," How did you know I would be here?"

"Haymitch found me."

Brenton smiled briefly before walking out of the door, Peeta following closely behind.

* * *

11F

The outskirts of the tree line is crowded with wounded and frightened children, as Finnick weaves through everyone. His team had been in an excursion with about twenty Keepers, before they had taken over the perimeter, they were lucky to have only lost three people.

He had tried to keep his mind off of finding his daughter, but he had more than once wanted to go on his own and search for her. So instead he had led, but now the adrenaline was leaving his body as he frantically looked in every face of every code he came upon.

He also hadn't seen Katniss or Peeta yet, and it wasn't helping his anxiety. He reluctantly walked over to where a makeshift first aide camp had been set up; bloodied bodies were laid out on hand made stretchers, when the more severe cases were taken to the tents, where a surgical team was working. He hadn't brought himself to check inside, he was too frightened of what he may find.

A rustle of leaves alerted him to turn around; he couldn't help his sigh of relief when he saw Katniss coming up over the small hill. She was being helped by a dark haired code, her body leaning into the girl's.

Finnick ran up to her taking her by the hand," Did you get shot?"

Katniss rolled her eyes," I'm so glad you're pretty, Finnick, because sometimes you can be extremely dense" Katniss nods to the girl," I was lucky she was there…she saved me."

Finnick looks to the girl who watches him closely, her green eyes studying him," Thank you, she's a friend of mine-"

Katniss nods to the girl," And she's your daughter. Finnick this is Daria."

Daria smiles slightly, as Finnick almost loses his footing," I'm Finnick…your dad."

Katniss clears her throat," I don't mean to be a bother but I need to get my bullet wound looked at."

Finnick shakes his head as he walks over to Katniss' other side, taking her by the arm. They lead her down the hill to where a medic rushes over to help her to an empty stretcher.

She looks over to Finnick," Is Peeta back yet? Did he find Brenton?"

"No, not yet."

She looks over to Daria who seems as distressed as she is," He'll be here."

Daria nods, but Katniss can see her eyes filling with tears. Katniss can feel her own grief and worry fill her as the medic has her raise her leg to examine it. She glances over towards the clearing; she can't hide the smile on her face.

She motions behind Finnick and Daria," Look."

Daria turns around quickly as she spots Brenton walking up to where they stand, she doesn't respond before running towards him closing the gap. Katniss has to fight her own need to race up to her family, while Finnick watches his daughter. Her legs feel heavy as she races towards him, she notices the blood down his arm and side, her body collides with his as she buries her hands in his hair, he does the same to her. His grip feels weak to her, and she can feel him shake against her.

She pulls from him just enough to look into his face," I was afraid I wouldn't see you again."

Brenton reaches up to push some of her hair from her face," I couldn't break my promise."

Daria smiles as she moves her hands to his face framing it, before kissing him passionately. Peeta clears his throat before he spots Katniss making his way to her.

By the tree line Finnick leans down, talking quietly just so Katniss can hear him," I find my daughter only five minutes and now I have to worry about boys."

Katniss covers her mouth to laugh, before Peeta comes up to her kissing her on the mouth before hunching down beside her. Even though everything has been changed in one day, the air is a bit lighter carrying the hope of change.

* * *

_**Epilogue 1**_

The wind is warm as it works its way through the old coal dust, whistling around the dilapidated buildings. The sun shines in his eyes as he looks at the burnt down structure in front of them. Burnt pieces of carpeting wood lays in a pile, scorch marks cover the once blue paneling.

Brenton covers the top of forehead with his hand, shielding his eyes from the sun," So you're going to rebuild?"

Peeta nods," Yh, I think so."

Brenton looks over to his father," Maybe I can help, it'll give me something to do."

Peeta raises his brow," What no Daria?"

"No, she's going to go to District four with her father for awhile after the trial, she needs time with him."

Peeta nods," It's hard being away from the girl you love, but it won't be forever."

"I know. It's just hard not having her around," Brenton runs his hand over his face," so it'll be good to have something else to think about."

Peeta pats him on the back," You ready to be a baker's son?"

"I don't know, but it can't be as near as much trouble as being a resistant leader's son."

Peeta laughs as he lightly smacks Brenton at the back of his head," You'd be surprised, but Markis was always the one who caused the most trouble."

"Do you think maybe you could tell me about all of them someday?"

Peeta looked to the ground smiling," Sure. I can do that."

* * *

_**Epilogue 2**_

Brenton pulled at his suit jacket, the fabric irritated his skin, and he was already beginning to perspire. His father had to take his brothers out of the room, seeing the five year old twins kept jumping off of the furniture in the small den.

Straightening his jacket, Brenton walked over to the mirror hung on the far side of the wall. He ran his hands through his dark hair, trying to smooth the strands back. He had kept his relatively short since the farm, it was easier to manage and Daria liked the way his bangs would hang in his eyes.

It had been five years since he was forced to kill in the arena, five years since he and his family had begun to rebuild the district. There were no longer any concentration camps, the Capitol had been made into a city of equals, the vision his grandfather had once had.

Snow was gone, he become sick in prison contracting a bacterial infection, so on a cold winters day he died an old man alone in his cell. Life had remained to move on; nothing was lost from his absence.

Soon after they had located to district twelve, his father had finally made an honest woman out of his mother and nine months later, his twin brothers arrived. It wasn't until the boys were born that Brenton had really felt the need to start his own family, so a few years later, after he and Daria had made love he asked her to marry him.

She had originally said no, afraid he had only asked her because her father was beginning to pressure him about having relations with his daughter and not being honorable about marrying her. It was true that Finnick Odair scared Brenton very much, but it wasn't his fear that made him decide to ask her. He was keeping his promise, to her, one he made when they were scared and broken and only had the other to hold them together.

A light knock at the study door broke Brenton out of his train of thought. He sighed, annoyed of how the twins were convinced how funny it was to knock on a door and then run away.

Brenton tore the door open," James, Luka, if you don't stop knocking on the door I'm going to murd-," Brenton stopped mid sentence when he saw her standing at the threshold, her hair was in waves around her body and a simple white silk dress flowed down her body," Daria? I'm sorry I thought you were the twins."

She laughed a little," It's ok. Can I come in?"

Brenton nodded, as he moved out of the way for her to enter," Yes, of course. Is everything ok? You still want to get married don't you?"

She walked over to the window sill, sitting down," Everything's fine and yes I still want to, but there's something I have to tell you."

Brenton walked over, sitting next to her," Alright."

"I don't know how to say this-"

"You're scaring me."

Daria laid her hands on his," Brenton…I'm pregnant."

Brenton stared off, before standing up to run his hands over his face. Daria squeezed her hands tightly, a wave of nausea coming over her.

"You're shocked."

"Yes," he could see her face fall," but it's good news."

"Then why do you looked so freaked out?"

"Because I know what your father can do with his trident. I'm in fear for my life."

Daria laughed as Brenton came to kneel in front of her, bringing her body to the edge as he laid his cheek against her stomach.

"I'm happy. There's no one else I would want to have a baby with, but I am seriously frightened of your dad."

Daria laughed as she ran her fingers through his hair, listening to him talk to their unborn child. The games had become a memory, a nightmare making room for ones of hope. Brenton held onto her for as long as he was able, until a knock came from the door, signaling the start of an entirely new journey.

_**THE END**_

* * *

_A/N: I loved writing this story so much, it kept me sane when waiting for the Hunger Games film to arrive. Also if there is any interest I may be inclined to write some companion pieces to this story. Just let me know what you think. Review! And all my love to those who read through this incredibly long fic,lol._

_-Stace  
_


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